Death Of The Devil
by rationalbookworm
Summary: AU. Dean is gone and Sam's fighting just to live day by day. But when he stumbles upon a familiar bar, broken and bleeding, he gets the second chance he didn't know he was looking for. Sam/OC Dean/OC Castiel/OC READ PREQUELS FIRST!
1. The Devil's Trap

**Again, this isn't edited, but I have less than an hour before I have to be at work, and I wanted to get this out before then. This is the main story I promised from Heiress Of Illusion and Hell On Heels. It takes place after Dean gets sent to hell but before he comes back. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything else recognizable. I make no profit from writing this.**

Sam hissed in pain as he slid into the dark alley, keeping hidden from the rowdy drunks spilling out from the bar across the street. The last thing he needed was to be spotted and carted off to a hospital. He racked his brain for where he had parked the Impala but after the disastrous encounter with a large vampire coven left him injured and alone, he was forced to run as quickly as possible. There hadn't been time to get to the Impala. He'd just ran in a random direction and now he was lost.

He'd been dodging attacks from monsters and demons alike for months now, everything seeming to bare down on him a million times worse since Dean's passing. Then there had been that run in with Ruby, who had been adamant that she could help him resurrect his brother. He was tempted to join her, he couldn't lie, but a voice in his head that was far too much like Dean for comfort had practically yelled at him not to trust her. Ever since he'd been forced to dodge her too. It was just getting to be too much. He needed an escape but didn't trust going to Bobby's in case he brought along whatever plague was on his ass this week.

"Oh, come on Piper!" one of the men slurred, drawing the only living Winchester's attention. He leaned cautiously forward, biting his tongue against the pain flashing through his abdomen to see the three drunks swaying precariously in the middle of the road as a smallish woman stood in the doorway of the bar, hands firmly on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"It's already past closing," she scolded. "If you three don't leave now, I'm calling the cops."

With that, the woman vanished back inside, leaving the drunks to curse and stumble to a car parked at the curb. They were clearly all too drunk to drive, but that wasn't Sam's concern. What was, was the large painted sign hanging above the bar's entrance, just below the second story windows where the owner probably lived. _The Devil's Trap_. Though it had been a while since the Mystery Spot and the endless Tuesdays, Sam still remembered every bit of it. He especially remembered one thing in particular. A small raven haired woman who had stopped the trickster's game and mooched a ride from Dean. They had driven her to New Orleans, dropped her off right in front of the bar he was now staring at.

"The fuck!" one of the drunks yelled, kicking the car.

"Wha'?" his buddy questioned from his slumped position on the ground.

"My keys 're gone!" he growled. "Bitch took my keys!"

"Pipe always takes keys," the last guy slurred. "Calls cabs."

"I don' wanna cab. I wan' my fuckin' keys."

The guy huffed and stomped shakily back up to the bar's door as his buddies weakly protested. His meaty fist pounded on the door, visibly shaking the glass as he shouted for Piper to open the door. Sam sighed, easing down so that he could sit on the ground. This could be a while. Once he had recognized the bar he had known Piper would willingly take him in and patch him up. She had mentioned on the long road trip home that she did it all the time for passing hunters, and made it clear the Winchesters were always welcome. But he couldn't exactly march up to the door, bleeding profusely from his shoulder and sporting at least one cracked rib. Not to mention his mincemeat face. It'd be a miracle if she even managed to recognize him.

Ten minutes later a black and white was easing up to the curb, lights flashing. Sam was a little amazed at how fast they'd gotten there. Cops, especially in big cities, weren't exactly known for their speed. Drunk number one cursed and tried to run away, only to fall flat on his face on the cement. The other two wisely stayed where they had collapsed on the ground beside the car. One cop got out and collected the idiot still kissing pavement while the other went to talk to Piper who had once more emerged from the bar, shaking her head in disgust at the drunks.

After that it took an amazingly short amount of time to finish up. The two non-combative drunks crawled into the cab that had showed up a minute after the cops with minimal fuss while the other got shut up in the back of the cop car. The longest activity was the cop taking Piper's statement. From his stance and the leering laugh that floated over on the wind, Sam guessed he was more flirting than working. Explained how he got there so quickly. Piper looked less than amused, arms crossed as she leaned away and looked anywhere but at the police officer. At one point her eyes traveled to the alley where Sam sat, only to snap back to him a second later. He sighed, glad she had spotted him, and raised his hand in a weak attempt at a wave before it fell limp to his side once more. His eyes drifted closed as exhaustion finally caught up with him. It was stupid to pass out in an alley while he was bleeding to death, but he really didn't have the energy or the will to get up again.

A small warm hand on his shoulder had him blinking sluggishly up at the soft features above him.

"Oh, Sammy," her voice was quiet and warm, wrapping around him like a blanket. He didn't even mind that she'd called him Sammy. "What happened to you?"

He grunted as she pulled lightly on his arm, getting him to sit up more so she could slip her arm around his waist and help him stand shakily. He couldn't help but put most of his weight on her. His legs felt almost like Jell-O and refused to work properly. She made it a total of five steps out of the alley before she had to stop, huffing out a breath from the effort.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Not your fault you're so big," she repositioned, grabbing his wrist with her free hand and gripping his waist more surely. "Actually I blame my father."

His brow furrowed, maybe he was hearing things, "Your father?"

"Mm-hmm," she hummed. "Where did you think I got my short stature from?"

He huffed out a small chuckle, making her smile up at him briefly.

"Luckily he also gave me a little of his powers, so this shouldn't be too bad of a walk."

Suddenly he felt himself being supported much better. Her strength seemed to triple in the space of a second, allowing her to force march him across the street and into the open door of her bar without incident. She dumped him as gently as possible into a chair next to a table with a first aid kit ready and waiting. He forced himself to sit up straighter, be more alert as she hovered beside him.

"I'm gonna have to get this shirt off," she told him, already undoing the buttons of his plaid shirt. "I need to check the damage."

Sam nodded and with a grunt, managed to help her ease the fabric off his shoulders so he was just in his white undershirt. That would prove more difficult to get off, but they managed in between some colorful language on his part and a few apologizes on hers. Once all his layers were out of the way, she took a step back, sucking in a shocked breath. He would have groaned if he didn't think it would only end up causing pain. He knew women found him attractive, he wasn't an idiot, but he had really hoped she wouldn't be _that_ affected by it.

"What _happened_?" Piper whispered in horror, her fingers lightly tracing a pattern of bruises on his side.

His head snapped up a little too quickly. As he waited for the dizziness to fade, he tried to reevaluate the situation. Apparently she hadn't been noticing his body, just the damage done to it. She leaned back to look him in the eyes, waiting for an answer to her question.

"Vampires," he groaned as her fingers accidently pushed a little too hard on his ribs.

"Sorry," she muttered bringing her hand back so she could dig her phone out of her jeans pocket. "Why is it always vampires? Ever since Anne Rice wrote about vampires in New Orleans, they come flocking in. It's ridiculous."

He chuckled lightly at her small rant and watched as she tapped out a number on her phone and laid it on the table. A sound of ringing drifted up from the speaker while Piper moved to checked his shoulder wound which had slowed to a small trickle of blood.

"I'll clean this out and sew it up for you," she said, digging through the first aid kit as she spoke.

"Thanks."

"_Yellow!_" a female voice called out when the ringing stopped.

"Nat, I need a favor," Piper answered. "I have an injured hunter on my hands and I need you to pick up his car for him."

"_Cool,_" there was the sound of a door opening and closing in the background. "_Where, and what kind of car_?"

"It's a '67 Chevy Impala. Judging by the major beat down I'm currently cleaning up, I'm guessing you'll find it near that big vampire coven we located down by the docks a couple weeks ago."

There was a beat of silence, "_Shit, he went down there by himself?_"

"Come by and pick up the keys," Piper ordered instead of answering the question.

"_Sir, yes sir,_" her voice turned playful. "_How quiet am I keeping this, by the way?_"

"Silence will fall when a good man goes to war."

Sam's brow furrowed at the sentence. It made no sense, but the other woman seemed to understand.

"_Right. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I remember nothing. None of this ever happened. Who is this Winchester person you speak of?_"

Piper chuckled, "I'll see you in a bit."

She hung up the phone and gathered the needle and thread from the first aid. So, not your average kit then. She soaked both in medical alcohol as she slipped on a pair of latex gloves, then used a lighter from her pocket to burn off any leftover germs from the needle.

"I don't have anything for pain that will work fast enough, or won't thin your blood out too much so you're gonna have to bear with me on this."

He nodded once, bracing himself against the table as the needle began to work its way through his skin. It hurt in some places and was just uncomfortable in others, but she worked quickly, finishing up faster than he had imagined she'd be able to. A cold sweat had broken out over his skin and he could feel himself shaking slightly. The need to pass out was slowly taking over again, but he held back, not wanting to drop unconscious right at the table. He felt something cold and wet brush over the newly stitched injury but barely registered the stinging of alcohol. It was while Piper was placing a clean strip of gauze over the wound that footsteps began to sound down the hall leading to the back.

"Nat?" she called.

"Hey, hey, hey," a voice answered as a tall slim woman stepped around the counter. She was wearing black skinny jeans and a pink tank top that matched her short bubblegum pink hair. She had sharp features, her face all cheekbones and lips, with soft brown eyes that sparkled with mischief.

"Wow," Nat muttered, stopping when Sam's huddled frame came into view. "You looked like you've been run over by a eighteen wheeler a few hundred times."

"Thanks for that visual Nat," Piper rolled her eyes, tossing her friend the keys to the Impala. Sam blinked. When had she taken those? "Just pick up the car and bring it back here. Park it out back."

"Sure, sure. I know the drill." Without another word the girl turned on her heel and walked back the way she'd come.

"Come on," Piper said, easing her harm back around his waist and lifting him to his feet. Again her strength seemed abnormal for one so much smaller than him. "Let's get you up to my spare room. You can crash there until you're better."

He shuffled along, gripping the railing when they made it to the stairs, "You said something earlier…something about silence and a good man going to war…"

"Silence will fall when a good man goes to war?" He nodded. "It was just a Doctor Who reference. I'll tell you about it when you're not likely to pass out at any second."

He chuckled briefly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed, even a little. Or the last time he actually felt safe and taken care of. Long before Dean's deal, that was for sure.


	2. Hell's Bells

**This chapter has references to the prequel Hell On Heels, so if you haven't read that you probably should. You should read both if you haven't realized by now despite me saying it before, but yeah...**

Red, orange, yellow, and even some blue flames licked up the side of the stones she stood on. Her normally creamy skin was all but covered in soot and grime. She couldn't even imagine the state her hair must be in. Her ears rang from the tortured howls of the damned. Despite the blistering heat that pressed in from all sides, a sort of ice had long settled in the pit of her stomach. She would never get used to hell, and she really didn't want to. To grow used to it would to become the monster so many thought she already was.

Closing her eyes, Skylar inhaled deeply, studiously ignoring the burn on the inside of her nostrils and the stench of burning flesh. Now wasn't the time to linger on all the things she hated about this place. She couldn't change it. But she could change the horrible thing she had done. Logically, she knew it wasn't really her fault. It would have happened even if she wasn't the one to strike the deal. But a large part of her still felt incredibly guilty about sending Dean Winchester to hell. Even more so when she had ran into an old friend.

Piper was different. Different in the very-not-human-but-sort-of-close-kind-of-like-Skylar kind of way. They had met as teens and despite their fathers getting along like a house on fire, had become fast friends. Mainly Facebook friends for a long time, but after the whole Dean situation, Skylar had wanted – no, needed – to get away for a while. She just needed to forget. Mardi Gras had seemed the perfect opportunity.

It didn't take long for her to stumble into a bar called _The Devil's Trap_. It was just too ironic to pass up. The large red devil's trap painted on the back wall just made it a million times better, even if the demon inside her hissed at it and cringed away, urging her to leave immediately. With practiced ease, she ignored it in favor of plopping down on one of the few free stools in front of the bar, only to get the shock of her life at seeing Piper serving up beers and mixed cocktails.

Their friendship was easy. They fell together like sisters within moments and, once the bar was closed up for the night, Skylar couldn't hold back anything. She told the other woman everything that had happened with Dean Winchester, everything she was guilty of. Piper had sighed and nodded and commented that she'd wondered when it was going to happen. Then it was Piper's turn to confess.

Piper's father was widely known as Loki, the Norse God of mischief. What wasn't as well known, was that Loki was just a cover. Her father was actually the Archangel, Gabriel. He had left heaven and gone into hiding. Piper skimmed the details, probably not wanting to get too far into why her father left, but it wasn't hard to figure out it had something to do with Lucifer, or that the other angels – who were all against mixing with humans, especially romantically – were the reason Piper lost her mother and sister.

But what really surprised Skylar was when Piper changed the subject (not the surprising part) to God. Her Grandfather. The half-angel actually had frequent conversations with the all-powerful being, just as her father had while in heaven. God had a plan, it seemed. A plan to take back the control over heaven that he seemed to have lost while he was enjoying time on earth amongst the humans he cared so much for.

His angels weren't listening to him anymore. Oh, there were still some loyal followers, but they were being silenced by those higher up who were claiming to still be in contact with him, all the while believing he had abandoned them. They knew his fondness for humans and were – to put it lightly – jealous. So like little children, they were throwing a tantrum. A tantrum so big it would bring on an apocalypse. Everything would be wiped out if certain people, certain beings, didn't step up to the plate and fix it. Piper was only part of that. She had her own orders. Orders that she couldn't discuss with Skylar except to say it did involve the Winchesters. But the truly surprising part was that Skylar was a piece of the puzzle as well. She may have sent Dean to hell, but she'd be his salvation in the end. He would need someone who understood what he went through when he returned from hell.

Which brings us back to Skylar, standing in the middle of the pit, surrounded by the damned and their tormentors, scanning the horizon for one familiar puppy dog face. She knew hell well enough. Her father was the King of the Crossroads, after all. But to truly understand everything that Dean went through, to be able to help him when he got out, she had to see it for herself.

Jumping off her perch, she cautiously picked her way through the torture racks, ignoring any of the demons who called out to her. She was semi-recognizable. Some had no doubt glimpsed her or at the very least heard rumors about her, but none really knew her. Crowley, her adoptive father, didn't mind her helping out on the crossroads every once in a while. More often than not he encouraged it. Socializing amongst other demons, however, was a big no-no. Not that Skylar minded. She really didn't want to get to know any demons. There were only a handful who her father occasionally came in contact with that she'd met briefly, and she couldn't exactly say she was glad of the acquaintance.

Unfortunately, she stumbled across one of them in her search for Dean Winchester.

"Well, well, well," the annoyingly nasal voice called. "If it isn't the Princess of the Crossroads."

Skylar didn't bother turning to face the demon, instead keeping her eyes scanning the faces of the damned she passed. She was sure to get nightmares from this, but she didn't have any other option.

"Meg," she greeted as she passed a demon slicing up a rail-thin woman. Looked like a junky. "I thought you were dead."

She scoffed, "Of course not. I'm just waiting for another chance to climb back out and get into another meat suit."

Skylar rolled her eyes, "I really hate that term. _Meat suit_. Especially now. All I can think of is Lady Gaga's dress made of meat."

Meg didn't comment. Probably didn't know what the hell she was rambling about. Skylar liked to do that to demons. Kept them from lingering too long. Regrettably Meg had grown used to it over the years. She was hardly fazed by it anymore.

"What are you doing down here, anyway?" Meg growled. "You're one of the few who can easily come and go. And you always complain about being down here."

Skylar smiled. Sometimes she really loved her extra gifts, even if she still didn't really understand how she got them.

"None of your business, Meg," Skylar waved her off. "Why don't you go…do whatever it is you do when you're trapped here. I'm busy."

Meg took a step nearer, only to freeze as a low growl made the ground beneath their feet vibrate. Her eyes widened as she slowly backed away. Skylar turned her head slightly to see her father's personal hellhound stalk around the corner, saliva and blood dripping from its bared fangs. Thick, matted black fur stood on end as red eyes glowed ominously. His humongous paw stamped the ground, shaking the world as bad as an earthquake. Meg gulped and looked between the Crossroads Princess and the hellhound. Skylar raised an eyebrow. Did the demon really think she could mess with her while one of her bodyguards was present? Apparently not as not a second later the demon had turned and run as fast as she could away from the area.

"Good boy!" Skylar called as the hellhound trotted up to her, tongue lolling out and making it look much more like an adorable puppy than a spawn of hell. "We're gonna have to get you a treat later, aren't we?" she asked in what was unmistakably a baby voice.

The hellhound barked, playfully nipping at her hand as she scratched behind his ears. She tilted her head in thought. A hellhound may be demonic, but it was still a hound. And hounds were natural hunters. She knew for a fact this was one that had helped drag Dean into hell for Lilith (that bitch), so he'd already know the man's scent. A small smile crossed her features. Finding Dean just got a whole lot easier.

She dropped to her knees in front of the dog, making it at least a head taller than her, "I need some help. I have to find someone. Someone you know."

It yipped and wagged its tail in answer. Good enough.

"Find Dean Winchester," she ordered, standing again. The hound blinked at her momentarily before tilting its head back and taking in long drags of air. After a moment it barked and skipped away a few feet, stopping to look over his shoulder with one front paw raised. Skylar smiled widely as she hurried after it.

They ran past demons and tortured souls, maneuvering around them as easily as if they weren't even there until they reached the very heart of hell. On a large torture rack hung a man, head hanging low against his bare chest. Cuts and bruises were the least of this man's problems if the two-by-four sticking out of his stomach was anything to go by. A table was set up nearby with various torture instruments set out. Whoever was working here wasn't present (probably on their version of a coffee break) so Skylar only hesitated a second before creeping forward. The man groaned lowly, head lolling to the side until he could look up at her through his lashes. His cheeks were stained with tears and blood, his lips dry and cracked.

There was no way he should have been able to speak judging by the dark hand-shaped bruises that circled his neck, but he managed to breathe out one word, "You."

Skylar was used to getting what she wanted, but this was one thing she wished she hadn't. She had found Dean Winchester and the guilt was eating her alive.


	3. Safe And Sound

**This chapter is mostly fluffy nonsense. There's a little bit of info in there but not much. Most of the upcoming chapters will probably be similar to this...at least until Dean comes back. I'll try to add in some more action-y stuff but for some reason, despite the bit of angst that naturally comes with this show, this is turning out to be one of my more fluffy stories. I can tell already. **

**Anywho, next chapter should be a little more exciting. Until then, enjoy!**

Sam woke up to stiff limbs and a crick in his neck. The emptiness he'd been living with since he'd watched his brother get mauled to death was still there, along with the pain of whatever injury he'd suffered through recently, but it all seemed dulled, faded. He could feel the pain, both physical and emotional, but there was something else there, overlapping it and making it easier to think clearly. His rage at the world had simmered down to a low burn and his sorrow had numbed enough for him to take a full breath without the need to wail in agony. He felt calmer, not quite at peace, but a step in that direction.

He frowned. That was not how he was supposed to be feeling. Sure, it had been months since Dean had…whatever. But he couldn't just stop grieving from one day to the next. That wasn't how it worked. Right?

Soft music filtered in through the cracked door along with a low female voice. From the stop and start of the voice, he guessed she was on the phone and he was only getting half the conversation. The room he was in was small, rectangular with nothing but a queen-sized bed, a tiny bedside table, and a dresser with a vanity mirror above. Everything was dusted and clean. The walls were a plain white. No window. On the side table was a vase of sunflowers, brightening the otherwise dreary room. His duffle lay on top of the dresser, looking just as stuffed as he'd left it which was reassuring. He couldn't exactly recall everything that had happened the night before, but if he had his things, he clearly came here of his own free will.

Carefully, wincing every time he moved wrong, Sam sat up, scooting back until his back was against the wall at the head of the bed. He took a minute while he caught his breath to assess his injuries. Dark bruises stained his side, but from his ability to take full breaths he guessed his ribs weren't broken. He felt like he had the hangover from hell so at some point he probably had a minor concussion. So far, not to awful. Something was irritating his skin, pulling oddly at his shoulder. His fingers reached up and brushed against clean white gauze with a patch of blood coming through in the middle. He frowned, brow furrowed as he tried to recall what had happened.

Footsteps cut off his train of thought and he tensed. He didn't _feel_ like he was in danger – his instincts weren't screaming at him anyway – but that didn't mean things could change. He glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and came up empty. The bruises on his side protested when he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He still had the jeans he wore the day before on, but his feet and chest were bare, making him feel oddly exposed.

The door creaked open more and a friendly, familiar face poked in, smiling when she noticed him sitting up, "Hey. Mind if I come in?"

"Not at all," he answered as she walked in, holding out a cup of coffee for him. "Thanks."

"Sure."

She moved to his shoulder, carefully peeling back the bandage to check the stitches while he sipped his scalding coffee. Just seeing her had started bringing back bits and pieces of the night before. God, he'd been an idiot for trying to take on that many vampires on his own. He'd only gotten two or three before they all ganged up on him. He'd been lucky to get away with just a few bruises and a cut shoulder. He didn't even want to know how he got to Piper's bar.

"You okay?" she asked when he sighed.

"Yeah," he took another sip of coffee. "Just thinking."

"About?"

Normally he'd be irritated at people asking that. Like they were prying into his personal life. But it didn't seem like that with Piper. Actually with her it was more confusing. She sounded equal parts honestly concerned and completely distracted. Like she cared about his answer but at the moment was too busy to give two shits what the answer actually was. Kinda reminded him of a single mother talking to their kid about school. He shook his head, not wanting to follow that train of thought.

"I'm going to clean this and put a new dressing on it, okay?" she asked, seemingly forgotten her unanswered question. She left the room at his nod of acceptance and came back a second later with her first aid kit. After she had opened it and pulled out a handful of alcohol wipes she asked again, "About?"

"Last night," he sighed and thumped his head against the wall for his stupidity.

"Careful," she warned half-heartedly. "I don't want to have to fix another concussion."

"Fix?" he twisted his head to look at her without moving it from the wall. "What are you talking about?"

She smiled at him shyly, "I have the ability to heal. Sort of. It's one of those things I got from my dad, though he's ten times stronger than I am. He'd have you fighting fit with just a snap of his fingers. Literally." She rolled her eyes at her own awful joke, making him smile. "As it is, I was able to get rid of your concussion, and heal your cracked ribs and some of the scratches and bruises they gave you. After that I had to quit or I would have passed out on top of you and that would have been awkward."

He laughed and shook his head, "Yeah, I guess it would have." He paused as he thought over what she had just told him, "Tricksters can heal? That doesn't seem very…prankish?"

She grinned widely, "Tricksters cannot, my dad can. He had to. I was kind of clumsy as a child."

Sam smiled at the picture. A single father who happened to be the God of Mischief learning to heal just so his daughter wouldn't have a scraped knee. That was better than anything his dad did for him and Dean. And they were supposed to be the good guys.

His thoughts were interrupted by Asia. _Heat of the Moment_ made him flinch as he whipped his head around trying to find what was playing that God awful song. Finishing with her task, Piper gave him an apologetic smile before reaching into the large pocket of the oversized hoodie she had on and pulling out a cell phone. She answered it quickly, cutting off the song abruptly. He scowled at her as he watched her talk to whoever was on the phone while cleaning up the first aid kit. That was just plain cruel, having that as a ringtone. Then again, she probably hadn't had him in mind when she chose it. Chances were, she just really liked that song. Or hell, maybe it reminded her of her dad. He blinked. Maybe that _was_ her dad on the phone with her.

"No, I'm closed today," she told whoever she was talking to, pausing as the muffled voice answered. "What, I'm not allowed to take a day off just so you and your buddies can come in and get drunk every night?"

Okay. Not her dad. Whatever.

Piper stopped her movements, freezing in the middle of the room with a frown on her face. She was facing away from him but Sam could see her eyes grow hard as ice in the mirror. He swallowed a lump in his throat, forcefully reminded that she wasn't just your average human. They may have been joking about it not ten minutes ago, but seeing the murderous look on her face, the same steely glint in her eyes that he'd seen in monsters just before they strike to kill, made it seem so much more real.

Suddenly he wasn't entirely sure he was safe here anymore.

"Fine," she answered sharply, cutting off whatever the person was saying. "I'll take care of it myself." She tapped the end button on her phone and allowed it to clatter onto the dresser in front of her. With a sigh she reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Everything alright?" he asked hesitantly, not wanting to redirect her wrath.

"Yeah," she practically growled. "Just an incompetent bunch of hunters who are supposed to help me take care of the vampires here but refuse to do so if I don't open the bar every God damn day." She heaved a sigh before taking two steps back and collapsing onto the bed beside him.

"I'm guessing you asked them to take care of the ones I went after yesterday," Sam turned to lean back against the wall again, one leg folding in front of him.

"Yeah, but apparently they want beer first. 'Cause that's totally gonna help them." She sighed again, "I'll have to go down there and handle it now."

His eyes widened, "What? You can't do that!"

She turned her head, raising an eyebrow as she stared up at her. Sam was relieved to see her eyes had softened again. "And why can't I?"

"I went and looked what happened," he waved at his battered chest impatiently.

Her hand shot up, finger pointed to the ceiling, "One," her finger pointed down to her chest, "Not human. Not completely anyway. Trust me, it makes a difference. Two," she held two fingers in the air before swinging her hand around to point at him. "You can't tell me what to do. And three," she held three fingers in the air, "Who ever said I was going alone?" She smiled when he didn't answer, "My mother was a hunter, and a damn good one at that. My father's a trickster. This isn't exactly my first rodeo, Sammy. I can handle myself."


	4. The Grand Torturer

**OMG PEOPLE READ THE DAMN PREQUELS! I'M GETTING TIRED OF PEOPLE TELLING ME THEY'RE CONFUSED! FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME READ THE PREQUELS AND YOU WON'T BE!**

**That being said, I started working on this chapter at work last night. One reviewer mentioned a while back about seeing some flashbacks of Piper and Skylar's childhoods, and it got me thinking. It took me a while to really come up with a good one that would still tie in to the story well. This one turned out pretty kickass, in my opinion. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it too.**

Skylar sat on the very edge of a cliff overlooking one of the darkest pits in hell. Only the most foul of creatures dared to step foot within this realm. Naturally, her father visited often. Or rather, he visited one particular demon who happened to frequent this particular pit often. Normally, he wouldn't bring Skylar anywhere near this demon, but after she accidentally (on purpose) made the latest in a long line of nannies kind of catch on fire (the poor woman's hair would probably never grow back) he had little choice.

The nine-year-old hummed under her breath to distract herself, swinging her legs back and forth as she leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse of her father, knowing it was futile but needing the comfort having him within eyesight brought. The pit was too dark, too deep to see anything clearly. All she could hear was the tortured screams of the damned and the sizzle of flesh being burned.

The cliff edge crumbled slightly under her palms, sending her into momentary panic as she felt herself beginning to tip forward. Hot breath brushed through the curls at the nape of her neck a second before sharp teeth clamped down on her sweater and yanked her back, ripping holes in the back of the fabric but keeping her from tumbling into oblivion. She turned her head and sighed in relief when she saw, not a demon, but one of her father's hellhounds, the one he'd ordered to guard her while they visited hell.

Another scream had her shivering in fear and curling in on herself. She wrapped her arms tightly around her knees and buried her face in her jeans. Never, ever again would she set her nannies on fire if it meant she didn't have to come back here and listen to damned. Demons may enjoy it, the blistering heat, the sooty air, the ear-splitting howls, and she may very well be part demon, but she would never, _ever_ like hell.

A long-fingered, bony hand rubbed from the top of her head, down her back, following her long hair. She froze, not even daring to breathe. That was not the comforting touch of her father.

"My, my," a nasally voice drawled. "What do we have here?"

The hellhound suddenly appeared at her side, growling low and menacingly. The hand disappeared as Skylar leaned into the side of the hound and peeked big blue eyes up at the demon beside her. He was thin, hardly any meat on him whatsoever. His skin almost seemed plastered to his bones with nothing in between. His eyes shone white and his mouth was lipless, revealing long, shark-like teeth. He was bald, making his head look bulbous compared to his long, skeletal body. He wore no clothing, typical for a demon, and a long serrated blade hung loosely from one hand, blood dripping off the shiny metal and onto the rough stone at their feet.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her, and Skylar leaned away. He tracked the motion, following it and ignoring the growling hellhound, "What are you?"

"Alastair!" a heartbreakingly familiar voice called, making the demon jerk back and spin.

Skylar leaned around to see her father standing a few feet away, looking ready to flay the demon alive. Before she could even open her mouth to speak, she felt the hellhound once more lift her up by the back of her sweater, making her dangle in the air like a newborn kitten being toted around by her mother. Under better circumstances, she might have giggled at the thought. Instead, the minute the hound set her down at her father's feet, she was scrambling to stand behind him, half hidden in his long coat. He turned slightly to gaze down at her, checking her over for injuries, before he laid a reassuring hand on the top of her head and turned back to Alastair.

"You may be Hell's Grand Torturer," he growled, sounding close to hellhound himself. "But you come near my daughter again…"

"Your daughter?" the demon cocked his head to the side. "How interesting."

"It's not what you think," he snarled.

"She's only half demon," Alastair continued as if her father hadn't spoken. He leaned forward, taking in a long breath of air. "And…half _human_? What exactly have you been up to on Earth all these years, Crowley?"

His lip curled, "_Not_ that. I found her a few years ago. Her family had been terrorized by a demon, but instead of being killed like the rest of them, she somehow managed to lock it away inside her. Now it's as much a part of her as her soul."

"She can't live without it," Alastair grinned, stepping closer to get a better look at the girl.

Skylar bit her lip and clutched at her father's coat tighter, but refused to back down. _Never back down_, her father had said. _Never let them see you weak_. She tilted her chin up in a show of defiance, meeting his gaze head on with very little hesitance. She refused to seem weak, even when she was.

The demon chuckled in amusement, "And you took her in. How sweet."

"It's none of your business, Alastair. She has nothing to do with your plans."

"No," he replied after a pause, suddenly disinterested. "I don't suppose she does."

"So we're agreed?"

"Oh yes," he grinned. "Contract all signed. But one last thing," he held up a single bony finger, dropping it to point at Skylar, "She has to be the one to get the contract."

Crowley looked down at his daughter, debating internally. Skylar looked back, trying to show she wasn't afraid. She'd seen what her father did for a living, had been to the crossroads a time or two. One day, she planned on doing that too. Because, though she knew her father saw it as collecting souls for hell, and that was exactly what it was, in part, she also saw the other side of that coin. The side where she would be helping people get what they want, making them happy even if just for a time. Everything came with a price. She understood that. She'd paid that price herself once.

Whatever Crowley saw in her eyes seemed to be enough. He nodded once to Alastair, "Agreed."

* * *

Skylar moved closer to Dean, tears pouring out of her eyes as she took in his tortured, haggard form. A lump formed in her throat at the hateful, mistrusting look he gave her as she neared. Her hands fluttered uselessly at her sides, wanting to touch, to comfort, but knowing it would just cause more pain.

"I…I'm so…so…" she couldn't say it. He wouldn't actually believe it anyway. The guilt was tearing her up, but he still saw her for the demon that put him here, that damned him to this half-existence, to living in hell with no escape.

"My, my," a hauntingly familiar voice croaked as a presence loomed out of the shadows to press intimidatingly up against her back. She swallowed reflexively, locking wide eyes with Dean's terrified ones. "If it isn't my favorite half-breed."

"Alastair," her mind finally connected her vague childhood memories. She had tried so hard to forget him, and yet here he was, tormenting her with his existence alone.

"What brings you so far from home?" he teased, not budging an inch from where he stood. The hellhound at their feet growled up at him, whimpering when he kicked out to get rid of the beast.

Skylar closed her eyes to cut out the flare of anger at her favorite hound being harmed. As in control of her powers as she had become, she couldn't risk losing control on Alastair. He was far more powerful than anything she even hoped to be. He'd kill her instantly and without remorse.

He chuckled when she refused to answer his question, moving away to his table of torturing devices, "I have a little time before I need to get back to work. Or would you like to join me?"

"Never," she snarled before she could stop herself, eyes flashing red before she could reign in her anger. "Unlike you, I never acquired a taste for torture."

He scoffed, "Must be your human half."

Dean's eyes got impossibly wider, staring at her in disbelief. His mouth was gaping open like a fish which would have been funny if his temple wasn't bleeding and the red trail wasn't quickly making a beeline for his lips. Without thinking about it, she reached up and carefully wiped that line away, allowing him at least that small dignity of not having to swallow his own blood. She was sure he'd done that enough for a thousand lifetimes.

He blinked at her in shock, but managed to close his mouth as she smiled sadly, "Must be."

Alastair sighed, "So sad."

She reluctantly turned to him, ready to tell him off but not wanting to get ripped to shreds. She hesitated a half second and forced herself to motion for him to elaborate, not trusting her voice.

"So much human compassion. But you never had a chance. After all, it was in my contract. _You_ were the one destined to send Dean down here, to me."

"I was nine years old," she hissed. "You and father made that deal. I had no choice in the matter."

"No," he grinned, his lipless mouth stretching thin over his sharp teeth. "But you did when you chose to become what you are. You chose to become a half-demon, a freak, over your family."

Her eyes widened in horror. She didn't dare look at Dean now, to see the condemnation and disgust in his eyes. It was bad enough how disgusted she was with herself, even after all these years. She would never regret her choice, the life she'd made for herself, but she couldn't stand how people saw her now. Like she was dirty, tainted, _damned._ What had been salvation for her, was damnation to the rest of the world.

"How did you…" she trailed off, not willing to voice her thoughts.

"It isn't very hard to get information," he lifted the same serrated blade he'd held all those years ago, when her fate and Dean's had been sealed together. "Not when you know what to ask."

It was too much. Seeing Dean the way he was, knowing it was her fault, hearing what she had chosen being thrown back at her. It felt like the walls were steadily closing in on her, eyes judging her from every angle. She couldn't take it. She _wouldn't_.

So she ran.


	5. Separate Ways

**Once again I'm updating this before work and don't have enough time to go through and edit it. I really need to stop doing that. Anyway, this chapter is distinctly lacking in Winchesters, but is very OC heavy, including my third OC, so hopefully that makes up for it. Plot moves along another step, and friendships are established a little more. All in all, I'm pretty happy with this chapter. Honestly I was just planning on having Piper and the others take care of the vampires in this chapter, but I like how this turned out a lot better. Maybe next chapter...**

The phone on the other end of the line seemed to ring endlessly, echoing in the otherwise quiet room. Piper sighed as she slipped her white tank top over her head and tapped the end button on her phone only to hit redial immediately after. Experience told her that Skylar would eventually pick up if she stayed persistent enough. Sure the demon – or whatever the heck she was; the woman wasn't very clear on the subject – had been MIA the past few days, but that didn't mean she was out of reach. As far as Piper knew, anyway. It wasn't like the blonde had ever _not_ been connected to her phone, though sometimes she'd ignore calls if she was in one of her moods. Until someone (Piper) wore her down, that is.

Just when she was about to hang up and try again – all while jumping up and down to help pull her skinny jeans all the way up – the ringing stopped and Skylar's voice drifted over the line, "_What_?"

Her voice was a lot harsher than Piper expected, signaling she was more in touch with the demonic part of her personality at the moment. Piper paused, "Are you okay?"

"_Just peachy_," she grumbled. "_What do you need that's so important_?"

Piper gaped at her phone, "Yeah, that's supposed to make me believe everything's okay? What happened?"

"_Hey you're the one that called me_–"

"Skylar."

She sighed quietly at the other woman's soft plead. Piper grinned. Whenever pushing didn't work, quiet pleading always did. Helped if she could use her puppy eyes with it, but she'd take what she could get.

When she spoke again, her voice was lighter, more human, "_You know how we agreed I'd wait to see what happened with Dean_?"

"Yeah…"

"_I got impatient_."

Piper sighed and flopped down on her unmade bed, jeans still gaping open, "You've been in hell this whole time?"

"_How long have I been gone_?"

"A few days. Can't imagine how long it's been for you."

Skylar chuckled humorlessly, "_Don't even get me started. But I kinda would love a distraction right about now, so what's up_?"

Piper shook her head, dragging her thoughts back to her own situation. She could worry about Skylar's when they were finished. She licked her lips and leaned forward, closer to the phone lying on her dresser, elbows propped up on knees, "Well, while you were hunting up one Winchester in hell, another stumbled onto my front porch looking about an inch from death."

There was a beat of silence, "_Okay, now you have me intrigued. What happened? Did Ruby actually get to him? I thought that's why G– um, I mean, your grandfather – had you get that bar in New Orleans. 'Cause that's where you were gonna be needed most_."

Piper nodded, ignoring the fact that her friend couldn't see her, "Ruby didn't get to him, no, but I'm guessing it was close. But most demons shy away from this area of town–"

"_Because of you._"

"–so he was able to make it here before she could get him," she continued, rolling her eyes at the small interruption. "I think that's what Grandpa had in mind. Either way, he's here now and all bandaged up. I even gave him a little magical boost to help heal faster. He should be up and running like new in no time."

"_Okay, that's great and all, but I don't see how any of that involves me_."

She grinned, "Oh, but that's where you're wrong, _chère_. You see, Sammy happened to tell me that the reason he got as beat up as he did was because he went after a particularly vicious group of vampires. I figured you'd like to tag along when I go to take care of the problem."

When Skylar hesitated to answer, Piper's feral grin turned soft, "Unless, of course, you found what you were looking for and don't want to leave him by himself…"

She let out a loud puff of air that wasn't quite a sigh, "_I just…they have Alastair on him, Piper. I can't just leave him like that_."

Piper's eyes slipped closed as she forced herself to reign in her temper. She had guessed they would do whatever they had to in order to break Dean, but Alastair? Most of the demons Dean and Sam had fought in their lives were minor league compared to Alastair. Not even. More like T-Ball. But what could she do? She had her orders (though hers were much more legit than the others) and her focus _had_ to be Sam. She couldn't afford a rescue attempt when the younger brother was so broken and in need of help. He was far too important, to her if no one else.

Distantly she heard Skylar still babbling worriedly, asking what either of them could do. They had to get Dean out. She couldn't just leave him there. She couldn't let Alastair continue. But Piper didn't know what they could do. The whole situation was just too fucked up. So she did the only thing she could think of. Eyes still shut tight, she reached out with her soul, the soul that happened to be part Grace thanks to her dad, and called out for help, directing it to where she could still feel God's presence. She was one of the few still blessed enough to feel that so easily, and she had never been more grateful for it than she was now.

Every contact she had with God was different. Sometimes they had long in depth conversations, sometimes they snarked back and forth almost as bad her and her father were, sometimes he merely sent her his emotions as a way to communicate what he wanted. Whatever got his message across best for each situation. This time was mostly emotions – reassurance, love, determination, sadness – with just one order.

"_Tell her_."

The deep voice reverberating through her mind had her calm and settled far better than anything else could. Her eyes slid open, body going lax from her grandfather's influence, and she tuned back in to Skylar's nervous ramblings in time for the demon to ask for help, any help. Gabriel may have been mentioned.

"No," Piper shook her head, her voice oddly steady with a happy tilt. "No, that's not his – our – job. It's yours."

"…_Huh?_"

"He told me. Grandpa wants _you_ to get Dean out of there. Before Alastair can break him."

Skylar's breath hitched, "Me?_ But…I…_"

"You are perfect for this job, Skylar. Trust me. Dean needs you."

The other woman was quiet for a long time, mulling over all the new information. "_Okay_," she finally said, sounding much more sure of herself again. "_Okay, I can do this. I can…But what about you? You said something about vampires that tried to kill your Winchester?_"

Piper chose to ignore the possessive way Skylar referred to Sam and waved away her friend's question, stopping with her hand in midair when she realized Skylar couldn't see the motion, "Don't worry about that. Nat and I can take care of it ourselves. I just wanted to see how you were since I hadn't heard from you in a while. I got kinda worried, and this seemed like as good an excuse to call you as any."

Skylar chuckled weakly, "_Okay, _mom._ If you need anything_…"

"You just get that boy home. I'll watch his brother till then. Call whenever you make it back topside."

"_I will,_" she paused as a loud scream suddenly pierced through the phone connection, startling Piper. Skylar sucked in a startled breath, "_Igottagoloveyoubye._"

The dial tone sounded a second later, making Piper sigh. She really hoped her friend was being careful. Skylar and her father weren't exactly all that popular I hell and the fact that she was going against whatever grand plan had been mapped out for the Winchesters would make her even more of a target. It would be harder than stopping an apocalypse for those two to escape hell once the alarm had been sounded.

* * *

Nat popped her gum noisily and turned to look at the woman next to her. Piper had called with a request for assistance on a hunt. A vampire hunt. A hunt for the vampires that had harmed Sam Winchester. Nat felt sorry for those poor souls. She very rarely saw the older woman get personally invested in a hunt like this, but the hard steel gray eyes and clenched jaw spoke of death for whoever crossed the half-angel's path tonight. Those poor beings didn't know what was coming for them.

"So how we doing this?" Nat asked to break through the tense silence of the car. Normally, Piper played music, singing quietly along to the songs from her iPod. Now, however, they sat in stony silence, staring out the windshield with only Nat's gum popping occasionally sounding like gun shots.

"Kill them all," Piper said tersely, one hand unclenching from the steering wheel to scrub down her face in a tired motion.

"No, I got that," Nat nodded, tucking a wayward lock of her pixie hair away from her face. "We going for the Marie Antoinette style of killing, or you got some dead man's blood tucked away in secret?"

Piper breathed out a laugh but didn't answer.

"Or would you rather I go Macbeth on their asses?"

"Have you even ever read Macbeth?"

"No, but it has witches, right?"

Again, Piper simply laughed quietly, not really answering the question. Nat just shrugged and turned her attention to the small bag she'd brought with her. Piper's boat of a Buick was fully tricked out with enough gear to be any hunter's wet dream, but she was seriously lacking in equipment for Nat's specialty. For that, the pink haired woman always brought along her go-bag. Talismans, spellbooks, potions, anything and everything she could possibly need for a quick hunt was tucked neatly inside.

Especially when hunting with Piper, Nat liked to come extra prepared, because even when the other woman was as murderous as she seemed to be right now, Piper never was fully capable of accepting kills. Nat knew it wasn't the angel part of her that shied away from killing (angels were soldiers, after all) but rather the human half. Piper was far too human to be comfortable killing, even killing evil things. So Nat and Skylar usually handled that part while Piper did most of the research, not that many people knew that. Piper _had_ killed before. She was just as dangerous as any other hunter, more so with her angel powers, weak though they may be. But the point was, she didn't like to, and her friends understood that. Whenever they could they kept the raven haired woman bow out of the actual hunting bits of their job.

But Skylar wasn't available at the moment (Piper promised to explain later) so Nat was going to do whatever she could to take the bulk of this job on herself. It was too much for one person, she already knew that, but one witch? There was one spell in her great-grandmother's Book of Shadows that was likely to help wipe out a majority of those fuckers without them getting in too close. When she said as much while yanking out the tattered, leather-bound tome, Piper had side eyed her.

"You're sure it'll work?"

Nat shrugged, "Not really, but it's worth a shot, right? Anything for Sammykins?"

Piper wrinkled her nose, "Please. Never call him that again."

Nat threw her head back and cackled like the witch she was.


	6. God's Plan

**Sorry for the long wait for an update. Been pretty crazy in the real world. New state, new baby for my sister, and hopefully soon a new job. Lots a new. Hopefully it doesn't cut too much more in my writing time.**

**And now a return to hell!**

Dean shuddered in fear as more demons crossed in his line of vision. They all seemed to enjoy pausing to torture him themselves. Because apparently having hell's "Grand Torturer" cutting him up daily just wasn't enough. All of hell hated him, evidently. Well, the feeling was mutual, that was for damn sure.

Then there was _her. _The bitch that had sent him here in the first place had also somehow become his only friend down here. And if that didn't fuck him up in the head he didn't know what did. However, that didn't stop her from occasionally stopping by when it was relatively clear of demons. At first all she would do was stand on the fringes of his prison, looking in guiltily. But then she'd stood up to Alastair a couple times. As much as anyone here dared to anyway. A couple days later – after he'd learned she was only half human, that she was partially a demon, that she'd fucking _chosen_ that over her _family_ – she returned, a bag slung over her shoulder and an old-fashioned water skin in her hand. Her dirty blonde hair was in filthy tangles, her skin coated in soot. Her clothes were torn and unwashed and her bare feet were cut and bleeding from running over the jagged rocks that created hell's grounds. Her blue eyes were hard as steel, determined in a way he hadn't seen since he'd met her.

And he really needed to rethink his opinion of her as she gently helped him gulp down greedy mouthfuls of the purest water he'd ever tasted. God, he was thirsty. All too soon she pulled it away from him with an apologetic half smile.

"Sorry," she explained quietly, "But you might get sick if you have too much at once."

His gut churned and he was suddenly glad she hadn't given him more when she pulled out an intense looking knife from her bag. His lip curled in disgust as he jerked away from her only for her to place her free hand on his shoulder in a calming gesture he really didn't want to give in to, but he couldn't help himself.

"Relax," she whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was looking their way. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I'm here to get you out."

"Why?" Even with the mouthful of water, his voice sounded as rough as sandpaper.

"It's my fault you're down here. It's my job to get you out."

Without any more explanation she stretched up onto her toes to reach the chains tied around his wrists. He didn't see how a regular blade, no matter how big it was, could cut through steel, but he was too weak to voice the thought. The simple fact that he was trusting her at all showcased exactly how little fight he had left in him. She seemed to understand, keeping her hand one his shoulder, partly for his comfort, but mostly for balance.

It seemed he was too early in doubting her. The blade must have some sort of magical demon power in it to be able to slice through chains as easily as butter. He began to slump to the ground, only to be stopped abruptly. Arms circled around his waist, allowing his weight to be held up against a warm soft body. Man. If he wasn't so weak right now… He shook his head to clear the thoughts. It didn't matter how this woman…demon…whatever felt against him. It didn't matter how good she smelt. There was no way in hell, heaven, or earth that he'd do something like _that_.

Whatever emotions may have been flitting across his face, she didn't seem to catch it. With one last look around them, she turned so their sides were pressed together and wound his arm over her shoulders, bracing her own arm around his waist to help him stumble forward. She huffed and puffed a little but otherwise made no complaint. Dean really couldn't be bothered to make conversation so they traversed in silence. That of course only made it easier for his mind to go over and over the fucked up situation he found himself in. Because really, how was this his life?

They had stumbled a good ways away when she carefully helped him sit on the ground beneath a small stone overhang and handed him the water skin. He sipped at it, not wanting to push his luck, while he studied the woman settling down near him. Her blues eyes were in constant motion, looking around them with intense concentration.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked finally, unable to curb his curiosity any longer.

She turned her big eyes on him, head tilted in thought, "Would you believe me if I said a messenger of God told me to?"

He snorted, "No."

"Because I'm a demon?" At least she admitted it.

"No," he shook his head. "'Cause if there is a God, he doesn't give a damn about me."

She hummed in understanding, "Well that's not entirely false. God gave people free will so they could live their own lives. He refuses to interfere with that."

He raised an eyebrow, "And you would know?"

"Like I said, a messenger of God told me to rescue you. Though that was after I had already came down here, so I'm not entirely sure if it was an order from the big guy or just her trying to make me feel better."

He blinked at her, trying to figure out whether or not he should believe her, "You're serious."

"As a heart attack," she drawled dully, eyes flicking back over the smoky horizon.

"How the hell do you know a _messenger of God_?"

"High school," she smirked.

"Yeah, see, I don't know about you, but my high schools never had demons and God's messengers."

"No, you just hunted monsters every other day." Couldn't argue with that. "She's half human, technically. No one knew about what we were."

He shook his head, hand going up to rub at his temple. That was just a little much, but she looked completely serious. Out of everything he'd seen hunting, this seemed the most ridiculous. It was hard to believe her.

"Look, uh…"

"Skylar."

He glanced up at her, "Skylar?"

"You have a problem with that?"

He rolled his eyes. Before he could say any more she was pushing back to her feet and moving to help him up again. He didn't question her further as he struggled to stand and follow her deeper into hell.

* * *

She was going to have to tell him everything. Or at least everything she knew. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him, but it would take time. Time they didn't necessarily have at the moment. By now Dean's absence would have been noticed and there was probably a hoard of demons on their heels. Getting him to safety had to be a priority right now. Though she had the feeling he wouldn't feel the same, unfortunately.

Skylar had scouted out a well hidden path that lead to an even more secluded cave the moment she'd gotten her orders from Piper. Now it was prepared with some basic food preserves, water, medical supplies, and another bag for Dean to carry everything. They'd camp out a couple nights until Dean felt strong enough to move on his own, though the idiot probably would push himself before then if she let him. Luckily she could be pretty damn stubborn when the situation called for it.

They settled down onto thin mats they would be able to roll and attach to their bags when they left. After double checking everything and making sure the entrance was covered, Skylar turned to Dean with a med kit open next to her.

"Let me patch you up and I'll tell you everything you want to know," she said honestly, knowing beating around the bush with this man would only piss him off more.

He nodded stiffly and allowed her to scoot closer. She slowly took stock of his injuries, trying not to think too hard about how he got them, or she'd just make herself sick. It wasn't until she was halfway done that she remembered she was supposed to be talking and cleared her throat pointedly.

"I guess I should start with the fact that God isn't exactly in heaven right now."

His eyes widened in surprise, "What?"

"Apparently he enjoys the company of humans over angels. He went down to earth for a vacation of sorts. A fucking long one, too. So long that a few higher up angels decided it was in everyone's interest if they took control. They started making up fake orders, telling them God was still speaking to them. They said it was time to start the apocalypse. Now keep in mind this was hundreds of years ago."

He nodded in understanding, jaw clenching as she disinfected a particularly nasty gash in his shoulder, and motioned for her to continue.

"Well it took a while, but the demons got wind of it and of course they were thrilled. The apocalypse meant they basically had free reign on earth. They could do just about anything with little to no consequences. So they started helping move it along. One of those demons was a yellow-eyed-son-of-a-bitch named Azazel."

Dean sucked in a sharp breath which she decided to ignore. He probably wouldn't appreciate her probing at his familial sore spots.

"He began popping up, making deals, putting demon blood into babies, claiming it was for some sort of army, but the truth is whole hell of a lot worse. He was looking for the one who would be strong enough to pop the lock on Lucifer's Cage, thus beginning the apocalypse."

"Shit," Dean breathed, running a hand down his face in exhaustion. "Sammy."

Skylar nodded, "Yes. They plan on using Sam to break the last Seal on the Cage. You see there's multiple Seals keeping the Cage closed. I have no idea how many, probably at least a hundred, but only sixty-six are needed to be broken before Lucifer can escape. Sam was meant to break the last by killing a very powerful demon named Lilith."

"Was?" his voice was so hopeful she couldn't help but smile.

"Was. But I'll get back to that. The first Seal is broken by a righteous man being sent to hell and accepting an offer."

"Oh God," he shook his head in denial, clearly knowing what she was saying. Alastair would have been making the offer to train him every day since he came here. He would understand what she was talking about without her continuing.

She carefully place a steadying hand on his shoulder, "You said no. You stayed strong, and now that's one less thing to worry about, okay?"

He stared at her for a long moment but didn't answer. "Is that why Sammy…"

She shook her head before he could complete the question, "Just wait. Now, God this entire time has been on earth, actually enjoying himself for once, but once he caught wind of what was going on, he got pissed. According to my sources, he never intended for the apocalypse to be anytime soon and he hated that his children were using his absence to act up like the way they did. So he began to formulate his own plan.

"He knew the only way for Sam to be able to break that Seal would be for him to drink copious amounts of demon blood. Hell had already sent a demon to form a relatively good relationship with Sam while you were still alive. Ruby created a shaky bond, but one that she could manipulate later after you were no longer there to help steer Sam in the right direction."

"No," Dean growled, making to jump up but collapsing again with a hiss when he pulled on an injury near his ribs. Skylar gently checked it over while she continued.

"Calm down. She hasn't gotten the chance to do more than annoy the crap out of him. God saw something like that happening and chose to put someone else your brother would trust in position to keep her away."

"Who?"

"Someone Ruby wouldn't dare go up against and that's all I'm saying until we go topside, okay?"

She kept eye contact with him until he reluctantly nodded.

"Sam is safe, I promise. God is fully on the side of the Winchesters. He sent me to come get you before you could break the first Seal and he sent someone to stop your brother from going down a very dark path. Once we're out of here I'll take you to your brother and then you'll get the rest of the story. Until then, sit back and rest. We'll leave in a couple days when you're strong enough."


	7. Conversations

**So. October. That's a thing. Apparently a thing I don't write in. At least this year. Sorry. A mix of extremely intense writer's block and real life kept me distracted enough to not be able to write for an entire month. It sucked.**

**Now, this chapter is mostly filler, and I feel kinda bad about that since it has been such a long wait. But this is better than nothing, right? Hope you enjoy it! =D**

The entire God damn warehouse was leveled. _Leveled_. As in: completely flat where once a large building stood.

"So," Piper turned to the witch beside her who was blinking in shock, "What was that spell again?"

"Uh…" Nat glanced down at the book still open in her arms, "Not sure. It was supposed to kill them, not…" she waved at the destruction in front of her, "That."

Piper turned back to the destruction in front of her, not quite believing what had just happened. They had only been fighting off the vampires for a few minutes, had hardly gotten winded, when suddenly a bright yellow light had flashed out over the warehouse, shaking it to the foundations. Nat had grabbed Piper's wrist and all but dragged her from the building as it collapsed around them. The whole thing hadn't taken more than fifteen minutes, tops.

"Well then," she blinked a few more times at the flattened warehouse before turning away. "Hungry?"

"Starving." Nat trotted after her towards where they had parked down the street.

Piper sighed as she slid behind the wheel, starting the engine and easing back out onto the road as she dialed a not-so-familiar number. The fact that she knew it from memory was completely coincidental and not at all stalker-ish. Really.

He picked up almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting, "_Hello_?"

"So we're hungry. You want to come or I could bring something back for you?"

There was a pause in which Nat smirked at her friend and Piper studiously watched the road in front of her. This wasn't weird. Not at all. She was going to keep telling herself that. Sure, she it didn't _feel_ weird to talk with Sam like they'd been friends their whole lives, but she wasn't stupid. She knew it would seem weird to anyone not in her head. She also knew she'd never hear the end of it from Nat. Skylar would be more understanding, all but in the same boat as her, but she was busy with her own Winchester.

"_Aren't you supposed to be hunting_?" he asked a little hesitantly.

"Already done. So food?"

"_Wait, what_?"

She sighed, "Did you seriously doubt what I told you before?"

Nat raised an eyebrow and smirked, and again Piper ignored her.

"_No, I just…You only left like thirty minutes ago._"

"Yep. So…food?"

He laughed weakly, "_You're not going to explain at all, are you?_"

"Not over the phone, no. There's this cute little café in the French Quarter that's run by an ex-hunter. Pretty nice lady, all things considered. She usually keeps a few tables relatively isolated just in case hunters want to talk without civilians overhearing. Do you want to come?"

She could hear him take a long in drawn breath and release it on a sigh, "_Yeah, alright. I could get out for a while._"

"Cool," she nodded and reached over to turn on her iPod, "We'll be back in a few to pick you up."

They said their goodbyes and hung up all while Piper ignored the smirking witch beside her. She was stubborn. She wouldn't break first.

"So," Nat drawled, popping a fresh stick of gum between her teeth. "Something you want to share with the class?"

"Nope."

"No?"

"No."

"Oh?"

Piper sighed, growing tired of this game, "What do you want me to say, Nat?"

The witch shifted in her seat so she was facing her friend, "What, exactly, are your feelings for Sam Winchester?"

"Excuse me?" Piper scoffed. "We are not talking about this!"

"Oh, I think we are."

"Nat, just…no. Okay? There's nothing going on, I promise you."

"But you want something to be going on, don't you?"

"Nat…"

"Just admit it."

"There's nothing to admit…"

"Sure there isn't. Come on, we're all friends here. You can say it."

"I'm pretty interested in this, myself."

The unexpected male voice coming from the back seat had both girls jumping and yelling in alarm. Piper momentarily lost control of the car, swerving into the other lane where there was blessedly no oncoming traffic. Her eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror where her father was grinning back at her.

"Dad! I thought we agreed! No popping into the car without warning when I'm driving!"

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Hmm. I don't recall that conversation."

Nat snickered as Piper sighed in exasperation, "What are you doing here anyway? Were you eavesdropping again?" Her eyes narrowed in suspicion when he didn't answer right away. That was exactly what he was doing, then.

"That's not the point," he waved the question away. "You're avoiding the question. Do you, or do you not, have feelings for one Samuel Winchester?"

"Oh for the love of…" her fingers tightened around the wheel as she took long deep breaths. She loved her family, she really did, but that didn't stop them from being the biggest pain in the asses she'd ever met. They weren't going to drop this, no matter how much she deflected. Especially with her dad here now. "I don't know, okay? It's not like I've spent all that much time around the man yet. So far, I've met him twice. Once when my father decided to _kill_ his brother. Multiple times. As in, upwards of a hundred times. I'm talking triple digits here, people!"

Her dad rolled his eyes. She couldn't see it, her eyes staying on the road now, but she knew he did. She could practically feel it. "I get it," he chuckled unrepentantly. "You don't agree with my methods. Let's move on."

"And now, I find him bleeding to death in a back alley somewhere after Ruby all but corrals him into a freaking vampire den where he had about zero chance of making it out of there alive. I had to patch him up, pump way more grace into him than I'm comfortable with just to stop the internal bleeding – which I couldn't even bring myself to tell him about – as well as a myriad of other things, and then go out and kill the motherfuckers who got him. I swear, I don't care what Grandfather says, if Ruby shows her little bitch face anywhere within a ten mile radius of me, I'm going to rip her heart out and toss it to Skylar's hellhound."

By the time she finished her rant, she was panting in air, having barely breathed through most of that. Usually, Piper had a vaguely sunny disposition, or she tried to at least. But the whole situation with the Winchesters was so fucked up she couldn't bring herself to see the silver lining. Sure Sam was safe at her house, and Skylar was getting Dean back, but she was still pissed. And just this once, she was just gonna roll with it.

"Feel better?" Nat asked calmly after a few minutes.

Piper felt the tense line of her shoulders slump and her grip on the wheel slacken, and sighed, "Yeah. Better."

"Well, that was interesting," her father drawled, reaching out a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. She felt a tingling where his fingers brushed her skin, telling her he was using his grace to check on her and make sure she hadn't overexerted herself when helping Sam.

"I'm fine," she promised, relaxing further into her seat. One rant and all the stress seeped from her body.

He hummed in agreement, "Well, I for one would like to hear more about you finding him bleeding to death in a back alley."

Piper blinked in confusion, "I thought you've been eavesdropping."

"Sweetie, as much as I'd like to spend all my time keeping an eye on you, there's the whole apocalypse to hold off. Even with you and Skylar playing your parts, this won't end well, or very quickly for that matter. Now, tell me what happened."

Taking another deep breath, Piper went over everything that had happened the last couple days, including her recent conversations with God. She told her father about her job of getting Sam back to his normal self, hopefully before Skylar returned, and about Skylar and Dean making their way through hell. The whole plan had given her was laid before her father and friend and when she was finished both remained silent, digesting the information.

"Well," her father broke the silence. "Can't say I wasn't expecting that."

Piper nodded. It was true that since she was a child God had been honest with the role she would one day play, but it had always seemed so far off, a distant future she never really had to worry about too much. Now that it was finally happening, though, she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it. She was honored to help, of course, to be trusted with something of this magnitude. But at the same time, she had a person's life in her hands. Her decisions could potentially ruin Sam's life, or take it from him completely. She wasn't sure she could handle that sort of responsibility.

But she didn't have a choice, and in all honesty, she didn't want one. She knew if she actually chose to leave and not do what she was asked, God wouldn't punish her, would let her walk away. The idea of leaving Sam to that fate, however, wasn't something she could stomach. She wouldn't abandon him, his brother – _the whole world_ – to the apocalypse.


	8. What You Know

**So here's a little more with Nat and Piper and Sam have a small convo, but not enough for everything to get out in the open. A little plot covered but not much. I was going to go more over Nat's background, including how she met the girls but I decided this was a little more important and needed to be covered first. So you get this instead! :D Any guesses on who Nat's mysterious guest is?**

Nat grinned to herself as she leaned back against the wall near the door. The stand-off taking place in front of her between Sam and "Loki" was probably one of the most amusing sights she'd ever seen. Gabriel, naturally, didn't seem fazed, leaning back in his seat on the couch with his feet propped up on the battered old coffee table and a martini glass filled with jelly beans in one hand. He was the picture of ease. Except, of course, the slightly narrowed eyes of suspicion that found Sam every once in a while. Just because he trusted God's plan didn't mean Gabe wasn't a father. He hated the position Piper had been put in and clearly didn't want Sam to get too comfortable with his only child.

As for Sam, he was leaning on his own wall across the room, close to the front door. His shoulders were tense and hunched and one arm cradled his still sore ribs. His free hand twitched occasionally, like he longed to be holding some kind of weapon for defense. His eyes flickered from Loki, to Nat, to the bedroom door Piper was currently behind getting changed, and back again. It really was kinda funny how the two men were eyeing each other warily, but when Piper emerged in fresh jeans and a t-shirt, both snapped to her attention, relaxing minimally.

The witch bit back a snort and straightened from her slouched position, "You know what, I think I'm gonna bow out."

"What?" Piper's brow furrowed, "I thought you said you were starving."

"Yeah, but I still have to visit Nan today, so," she shrugged and waved as she trotted out the door. She smirked as the image of the three of them stuck together at a dinner table. The awkward conversation alone would be enough to put anyone to sleep. Or to kill them. Whichever came first.

She was still grinning as she pushed the back door of the bar open and stepped out into the dim alley. Even in the middle of the day, the sun bright overhead, the alley was still only minimally illuminated. Nat had asked Piper about it before, but the half-angel merely shrugged it off, though a glint in her eyes said she knew far more than she was letting on.

Nat shrugged off the memory in favor of glancing around, making sure no bums were using the large dumpster as a shelter before she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She reached deep down to where she felt a spark of magic, the same spark her mother, and her mother before her had held. This was their legacy, the one thing she still had of her mother (spell books not included). She adjusted the heavy bag slung over her shoulder as she mentally prepared the transportation spell. It wasn't one she used often. Public transportation was always so much easier and less noticeable to use. But where she was going, she couldn't very well get there on the bus. So instead she allowed her eyes to fluttered open and braced herself as the simple Latin words flowed off her tongue as easily as breathing.

Between one blink and the next her scenery changed. One second she was standing in a dirty, shadowy alley, the next she was looking across a field to a tiny log cabin tucked up against the towering oak trees that made up the bulk of the surrounding forest. She shivered in the small breeze that passed and hurried toward her grandmother's house quickly.

As she stepped over the threshold, kicking the door closed behind her, she hummed _Into the Woods_ under her breath. A warm chuckle greeted her from beside the fireplace across the room. The crackle of the fire and clack of knitting needles were the only other sound and Nat felt her body sag. It was always good to come home after all the crazy her friends managed to find. A few long-legged strides had her across the room and kissing her grandmother's cheek quickly. She slouched down in the seat across from the elderly woman, bag dropping heavily beside her feet, and ignored the disapproving glare Nan sent her way.

"What's up, Buttercup?" the slightly gravelly voice of Nan had the young witch smiling.

"Nothin' much," Nat answered with a small shrug that had her sliding slightly further down in her seat. "Killed some Vamps with Piper today."

Nan hummed, "Good for you. Hungry?"

She grinned wolfishly, "Starving."

With a nod, Nan set her knitting aside and pushed herself slowly to her feet. Nat's eyes followed her as she shuffled slowly across the room to the swinging door that led to the kitchen. She wasn't stupid. She could clearly see that her grandmother was getting up there in age. But Nan was the only family she had left. If she died…Nat shook her head. She really shouldn't be thinking like that. And really, why were those types of thoughts drifting in at all?

A sudden loud thump echoing from the kitchen had her up on her feet instantly. Magic practically glowed around her as she pushed passed the door and nearly collapsed beside where her grandmother lay spread-eagle on the tile floor.

"Nan!" her hand gripped the soft fabric of Nan's knitted sweater as her eyes tracked the slow rise and fall of her chest. "Nan…"

"Don't worry," an unexpected, unfamiliar male voice had her freezing, her blood running cold. "She's not dead. She sort of…sleeping."

Slowly, Nat raised her head to look at the intruder sitting atop her counter. The man grinned charmingly at her, sipping at a glass of amber liquid like her belonged there.

Nat felt her lips pull back in a snarl, "Who are you?"

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, "Is that any way to speak to an angel of the Lord?"

* * *

Piper sighed in relief as she stepped into her blessedly quiet home. Dinner couldn't have gotten more awkward. She blamed her father. Sam had tried, more out of politeness than anything, to make conversation, but naturally Gabriel had decided to play the uptight father figure passing out veiled threats to his daughter's possible suitor. It would have been funnier if it hadn't been happening to her. Now, with her father having taken off to "take care of some business" she was finally left alone with Sam and she could apologize properly.

"Sam," she began turning to face where he had plopped down on her secondhand couch. "I…"

He waved her off before she could think of what else to say, a small smirk on his face though it didn't reach his eyes, "It's alright."

"It's really not though," she moved to slouch down beside him, her arm brushing against him from lack of space. Really, it was kind of amazing there was so little space between them. Normally the couch fit three to four people comfortable, but Sam seemed to take up half of it himself and she couldn't seem to bring herself to move further into the corner opposite of him. She sighed, running her hand through her hair agitatedly as she thought through what she should say. She couldn't give too much away too early. He had to learn to trust her more first.

"There's a lot about my dad, about _us_, that you don't know. I can't really explain, but trust me when I say he's not the bad guy."

His face scrunched up in the most adorable disbelieving expression she'd ever seen and Piper couldn't help but snort. "He's a trickster."

She smiled, "Yes, he is. Always has been. But he's a lot of other things as well." He turned curious eyes on her, wide enough to be classified as puppy-dog, and she felt her resolve to not tell him anything else crumble slightly. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the flow of words back. "Look," she stated instead, twisting around and tucking her feet under her legs so that she was facing him, "Forget about my dad for a minute."

He raised an eyebrow at her determined tone before turning slightly to face her more head on, his long arm draping beside her along the back of the couch, "Okay."

She deliberately placed her hands on his shoulders, not breaking eye contact even to blink. Her eyes watered in protest but she kept them wide as Sam studied her intently. "Do you trust me?"

The hand resting on the couch rose and pressed the side of her face, adding to the pure honesty in Sam's voice, "Yes."

She nodded once and dropped her hands back to her lap, watching them as she tried not to lean into his touch. He lingered for a moment to tuck her hair behind her ear before his hand went back to its spot beside her. He was patient for all of two minutes before he asked why she'd asked.

"There's some things I'm not telling you," she answered honestly, not able to look up from her twisted fingers. "Some things I _can't_ tell you. At least not yet. Soon. Maybe. Hopefully."

He paused for long enough for Piper to start worrying. She looked up to see him turned away from her, though he hadn't retracted his arm so she assumed he wasn't too upset.

"Is it something bad?" he asked quietly. "Is it something that'll hurt someone?"

She genuinely had to think through everything she was keeping from him. It probably would be easier just to come clean, but it wasn't time. She _knew _it wasn't.

"No?" she answered, questioning herself even as she spoke. Only time would tell really.

He huffed out a humorless laugh, "You don't sound very sure of yourself."

"I'm not," she laughed with him, leaning sideways so she was half laying her head on his arm. "I can't exactly tell the future, you know. But I can promise you one thing…" she trailed off, unsure if she should have really said anything. But he was looking at her expectantly and she couldn't take the words back, so… "You won't be alone anymore."

He smiled, his arm moving under her until it wrapped around her shoulders, "Thanks, Piper. Though I'm not entirely sure why you'd want to help me…"

She smiled back nudging him playfully (but gently) in the side and turned toward searching for her eternally missing television remote. That hadn't really been what she meant, though it wasn't untrue either, so she didn't bother correcting him. However, his statement just reminded her of yet another thing she'd have to tell him, sooner rather than later. It wouldn't end well if he found out from someone else who she really was. She had gained his trust rather easily, despite him knowing who her father was. (Or who most knew him as. Whatever.) But still, if he found out everything from anyone besides her, she knew she'd loose that trust just as quickly. And nothing seemed as horrific as loosing Sam to her own mistakes.


	9. Ain't No Rest

**So...one month between chapters doesn't seem so bad anymore. My muse has been fighting with me lately, for whatever reason and it's been extremely difficult to write. I'm hoping it gets better soon, but I can't really make any promises. But to make up for it, here's a nice long chapter with lots of new info on backgrounds and the tiniest bit of character development. Hopefully that makes up for it, but if not, I again apologize. Just know I won't abandon this story, no matter how long it takes to update.**

Leaving turned out to be a lot easier said than done. Not that he hadn't expected that. Honestly, the simple fact that he _could_ leave hell was still mind boggling to him, let alone how long it would take.

Skylar had kept Dean in that cave for close to a week, not letting him so much as stand until she was positive he could run without getting caught. He would have argued, but despite popular belief that Sam was the only brains of the family, Dean was smart. He could read people easily. Her being half demon didn't seem to hinder that ability any. He could see she had told him everything she could about what was happening topside, but at the same time was keeping something from him.

And he couldn't deny how curious he was about her past. How she became half demon. Part of him felt like if he learned what she was hiding, he'd understand her more. Understand why she was doing what she was doing. Because simply rescuing him because a "Messenger of God" told her to was a little hard to believe. Since when were demons and angels buddy-buddy anyway? Her entire explanation had cropped up more questions than answers in his mind and he was determined to find out the whole truth.

So he stayed put, didn't put up a fight as she fussed over his wounds and planned out their escape. He didn't complain when she refused to leave until he was completely healed. It took a lot of effort and he wasn't entirely sure he pulled off the innocent play, even with the puppy dog eyes. She kept shooting him suspicious glances during their stay, even up until they were packing.

They crept along rocky paths that twisted and turned in convoluted ways. Dean was glad to have a guide, even a questionable one like a half-demon who had sent him to hell in the first place. If he were on his own, he'd never be able to find the way out. He'd still be tied up for that matter. Hell, he might have even taken Alastair up on his offer.

They stopped for a rest under an outcropping of rocks, sipping at water and trying not to breathe in too much of the ash floating in the air. They were drifting closer to the main pit of hell, where the bulk of damned souls were tortured. Special cases, Skylar informed him, were taken to separate areas, not completely cut off from the main pit, but separated by large, steep cliffs like the one their path hugged.

"We'll need to stay quiet," Skylar muttered, eyes trailing over whatever was at the bottom of the pit. Dean chose to rest against the cliff, away from the sights of the torturing happening not far from them. The sounds were enough. He flinched when a bloodcurdling screech ripped through the air and Skylar smiled sadly, "The screams should mask any sounds we make, but we should still be careful."

Taking a deep breath, he nodded in understanding and looked around for a change of subject. Anything else would be perfect. The sharp line of a knife tucked into a sheath at her hip caught his eye and he remembered one of the things he'd found curious about his guide.

"That knife seems familiar…" he prompted.

Without a word, Skylar unsheathed it, holding it by the blade so he could take the hilt. Balancing the large hunting knife across his palms, he studied the details and craftsmanship. It was one he recognized with a jolt of surprise.

"Recognize it?" she asked drily.

"Ruby's knife? Seriously?"

"No, but it was made by the same witch."

He raised an eyebrow, "A witch made it."

She nodded, "An old friend's grandmother. She works mainly for hunters, making them weapons like these knives, or the colt." She held up her hand to stop Dean's protest before he could voice it, "I'm not saying she made the colt. That'd be ridiculous. But it is a sort of family tradition to make specialized weapons."

Dean blinked at her in surprise as he processed that, "So you're saying Samuel Colt was a witch?"

"No, he was a hunter," she stated bluntly, eyes going back to scanning the area for threats. "His wife, however…"

Dean looked back down at the knife, his thumb dragging carefully over the edge of the blade. It dragged against his skin, threatening to slice the calloused flesh if he pressed just a little too hard. His mind raced over the new information, yet again more questions popping up.

"Why would a hunter marry a witch?" was the first to find its way out of his mouth.

Skylar stared at him for a long moment, apparently trying to decide what to tell him. Her expression hardened before she answered, "Why would a hunter marry a trickster?"

His jaw dropped. When would this woman stop surprising him? "You know about…"

"Piper. Her name is Piper." Skylar grinned at his stumbling.

"Is there some kind of magical Facebook that's letting you connect to every freaking half-breed monster out there?"

She snorted and shook her head, "No. I just have a lot of friends in high places. It's a long story that we really don't have time for. We need to keep moving."

* * *

Dean was panting for breath, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. The air down here was thin at best, full of ash and soot. It made it hard to take a full breath, which in turn made fighting incredibly difficult. Glancing up, he found Skylar in a heated battle with two skeleton-like demons. They were cutting her up pretty bad, blood running down her arms, her face practically covered. But she didn't slow, didn't budge an inch, simply kept moving kept fighting the last two of the dozen or so demons that had ambushed them.

And damn if it weren't the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Skylar twisted and turned like a ballet dancer, her arm flying forward with the occasional stab at the demons. Her breathing was steady and even as if she weren't exerting any effort. He had to turn away, ashamed of the twisting feeling in his gut that came as he watched.

It wasn't until the sound of fighting finally ceased that he looked up again. Skylar was slouched on the ground, huffing lightly and attempting to wipe the black blood off her blade with her equally bloody shirt.

"You okay?" he ground out, looking around for where they'd tossed their bags aside. There was at least one med kit stuffed amongst their things.

"Peachy," she huffed, pushing hair from her face before sheathing the still unclean blade once again. "We need to move. Before more come."

He finally found the med kit but didn't pull it out immediately, turning towards the half-demon, "You gonna bleed to death."

She chuckled, "Not anytime soon. Let's get out of here and then I'll let you patch me up, 'kay?"

He hated the concern that was leaking into his heart, but he hid it as much as possible. Shoving the med kit back into his bag, he threw their things over his shoulder and stood, ready to keep moving. After all, she would know how much she could handle. Being half-demon probably helped quite a bit. Which brought to mind the main question surrounding Skylar.

"So uh, not to be insensitive," he began awkwardly, "But uh…" How _did_ someone ask a half-demon how she became what she was?

She paused in her trek down the path to half turn to him, blinking up at him questioningly.

"What Alastair said…about your family…"

"Ah," she nodded, turning away again to continue on. "I was wondering when you'd bring that up. It's really not what you think, though."

"Oh, cause uh, Alastair…"

"Yeah, well, Alastair's an asshole. Always has been, okay." She took a deep breath, facing forward, away from him. "I was about six or seven when demons came to my home one day, possessed my parents, started beating me and my brother, killed my grandmother. They even started beating each other. Found it funny to cut each other up in front of me and my brother just to freak us out.

"They had this small black box they kept under lock and key. Said if we ever so much as touched it, they'd kill us. My brother was older than me by a few years, old enough to figure out what was happening anyway. He figured if we got the box, the box they practically worshipped, we'd have control over them. I don't know how he got it, but one night before bed he just shoved the box at me, told me to run. Before I could, though, they found us hiding in the closet in our room. They grabbed my brother and threatened to kill him unless I handed over the box. Told me a monster far scarier than them was in there and we'd all be dead if it got out."

Dean didn't say anything when she stopped talking and moved off to a little cave where they could safely rest and she could be patched up. They set up in the back of the cave, Skylar taking the med kit from him and beginning to clean the cuts on her arms without looking at him.

"I don't know what made me do it," she continued after a long stretch of silence. "But for whatever reason, I opened the box. Demon smoke almost immediately enveloped me and I heard…a voice…in my head. It told me…it said my parents and brother could be saved. But at a price. I would have to allow whatever it was into my body like the demon were in my parents, but more. They had starved this…being, somehow. They wouldn't be able to survive without a host. Someone to bond with. My soul would be tied forever with this thing. We would – as corny as it sounds – be one. I agreed.

"It hurt like hell, let me tell you," she chuckled humorlessly. "But in the end, it was able to get rid of the demons and save my family. Unfortunately, saving didn't necessarily mean they would live. While I'd been talking in my head with the demon, the others had followed through with their threat and killed my brother. After they were forcefully removed from my parents, their bodies gave out. They'd been put through too much to survive any longer without the demons keeping them alive."

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. He'd been so ready to believe Skylar had chosen this life over some selfish reason, but she was no different than him when he sold his soul to save Sam. And wasn't that thought just a kick to the nuts. He didn't want to have anything in common with any demon, ever, but at least now he felt slightly more comfortable with her, more trusting. At least he trusted she wouldn't kill him out of nowhere.

"It was a few hours later when yet another demon showed up. The King of the Crossroads, actually. Apparently the demons that had possessed my parents were old workers for him. They used to make deals, before something just…snapped. They went a little too wild so he'd fired them, for lack of a better term. They went rogue, started possessing and killing people for fun. But not before taking something from him. A demon he had trapped in a black box so it could never leave him. It was the first soul he had ever made a deal for, corrupted and deformed until it became a demon, but with some of his own powers mixed in. He had made it to become a companion of sorts, so he wouldn't be so lonely. He had just been waiting for the perfect body to put it in.

"When he came to the house and found me, the demon soul already fused to me so deeply I would literally die without it, he decided to adopt me. He took me in and raised me as his own. Better than, considering when he was human he'd had a family that he cared very little for. But part of my new soul was made to his specifications, so I guess I was just easier to deal with."

He shook his head, "Well fuck."

She finally looked up at him, a cautious question in her eyes.

"That is nothing like what I expected."

She snorted, "I bet."

Carefully he reached forward and took the disinfectant from her hands to clean the cut above her right eye that was still bleeding sluggishly, "But I guess it explains a lot."

Her smile was soft and a little shy and definitely didn't cause his stomach to flutter with what he refused to consider as butterflies. At all.

He was so fucked.


	10. The Runaway

**So this chapter is annoyingly short, but I wanted to keep it with just this scene. There's already so much happening in this story so I'm trying to come up with a way to make it less confusing for at least me, considering I know everything that's happening, even stuff I haven't written yet. Once I sort it all out in my head, I'm hoping that'll help me be able to write more, which means more updates. so it's a win-win. If it works. **

Nat groaned inwardly. Just her luck that some asshole angel would show up in her kitchen. Normally she flew under their radar. Having Piper as one of her best friends had some perks after all. Gabriel made sure anyone that came in contact with his daughter would be all but invisible to heaven's eye. Somehow that hadn't worked now. It could be because it had nothing to do with the angelic/trickster family. Nan had supernatural type people stop by occasionally to request different spells or potions, or weapons that they normally reserved for hunters. For the most part it was harmless protection stuff. If not they had enough power to banish whatever came knocking.

But an angel was a whole other level of power that they wouldn't be able to fight off completely. Hiding with help from an archangel, learning a few sigils to protect, hide, and even banish, but that didn't mean they could come back even more pissed off than before.

Nat stayed crouched protectively over Nan's prone form and glared up at the unwelcome guest, "What do you want?"

The angel looked down at his drink, swirling the amber liquid around and making the ice click against the glass, "I need a spell."

"What spell? Why?"

"Whatever spell you used to hide from heaven." He glanced up a frown on his face. Light blue eyes studying her questioningly, "How did you manage that?"

"I didn't," she answered honestly. Maybe if he knew she couldn't do what he wanted he'd leave her in peace. "Why would you want to hide from heaven?"

He grinned at her, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, "That's not really any of your business, sweetheart. Who do I need to see to get whatever you got to keep hidden?"

"Sorry," she answered dryly, "I don't rat out allies. Especially without a good reason."

He stared at her for a long minute before sighing and downing the rest of his drink, "Look, love, I'm not the first bastard that left heaven. Sometimes we just don't want to deal with the assholes that run the place, you know."

"So fall. Become human. Just leave me and mine the hell alone."

He snorted, "Why would I want to be _human_? I want to hide, not die."

She rolled her eyes, "Right well, I'm not getting someone involved for anything less than the world ending, which we're already dealing with, so you can just go fuck yourself."

His grin widened, "Feisty! I like that."

She was about to snap back, demand he leave her Nan's house, when the sound of fluttering wings filled the room. Nat turned slightly, keeping the first dick in her peripheral vision while turning mainly to the newcomer, who turned out to be a tall man in a suit and oversized trench coat. Short black hair looked slightly windswept and his striking blue eyes swept the room calculatingly before landing squarely on the other angel.

"Balthazar," the shockingly deep voice of the second angel sent a thrill down Nat's spine that she refused to acknowledge.

Newly-named Balthazar grinned what seemed to be his trademark smirk, "Hey, Cassy. How's it going?"

The angel, that Nat refused to refer to as Cassy, frowned slightly, "You have not been approved for travel to earth."

Balthazar snorted, "You really don't get the concept of running away, do you Cassy?"

"I must insist you return with me."

"Not going to happen. Sorry, baby brother, but I'm not going back there anytime soon."

There seemed to be some sort of standoff between the two angels as they stared each other down, neither giving an inch. Nat looked back and forth between the two until finally huffing in annoyance, "Not that this hasn't been informative and all, but could you maybe reverse what you did to Nan and, I don't know, leave."

The second angel looked down at her from where he towered over her, studying her for a long, frankly intense moment. He nodded once, bent down and touched Nan on the forehead. A moment later Nan yawned and blinked her eyes open sluggishly.

"Thanks," Nat sighed, glancing up to find she was now talking to thin air rather than two angels. She huffed in annoyance once more, "Rude."

"Buttercup?" Nan asked groggily, struggling up into a sitting position. "What happened?"

Nat sighed, pulling out her phone to warn the others about what could possibly turn into a shit storm to rival the entire apocalypse, "Hopefully nothing that'll bit us in the asses later."


	11. Secrets

**Honestly, I'm extremely surprised I was able to write a chapter. I'm kinda on an unofficial hiatus for all writing. Things in my life are just really stressful and forcing myself to write was just adding to it. It was starting to get to the point where writing just wasn't fun anymore, and that nearly killed me. So I just stopped writing. Today was the first day where I actually thought "I could really write something right now". Like, I actually felt a desire to write something. So I started rereading some of my WIPs and got caught up in this one enough to want to write more on it. And suddenly I had a whole new chapter to post.**

**I can't guarantee I'll be writing a whole heck of a lot right now, but I can guarantee the way I had been writing will have to change. I honestly can't continue to force myself to write. I have to go back to only writing when I _want_ to, which means updates may end up being spaced apart further than ever, kinda like how this one was. I apologize but my own health and stress has to come before others entertainment. Rest assured I do plan on finishing all of my stories eventually. It may just take more time than before.**

Piper paced the length of her room. She had about an hour, at most, before she needed to be down at the bar to open it up. She never really had a set time when she opened, but it was never later than nine, a time that was steadily creeping up on her. Normally, she'd already be downstairs, making sure everything was stocked and the room was clean, but today was different. It wasn't supposed to be. It had been relatively normal, all things considered. A vampire nest that had been a pain in her side for too long was gone, she had an early (and incredibly awkward) dinner with Sam and her father, and tonight she was going to have a completely normal night working. And then Nat called. Also completely normal, except for what she was calling _about_.

It was like one of her worst nightmares come to life. Not only did one, but _two_ angels managed to locate one of her best friends. Somehow using a loophole by searching for Nan rather than Nat herself. Logically, Piper had always assumed they'd be found eventually, but she had always hoped it at least wouldn't involve anyone else. It was bad enough her father, and by proxy Piper, would have to face the angels that were sure to track them down. She wouldn't be able to handle watching her friends get caught in the crossfire.

She forced herself to stop and take long deep breaths. Freaking out wasn't going to help anyone. There was literally nothing she could do until they knew more about what was happening. Immediately after hanging up with Nat, she'd called her dad, but he must have been in the middle of work since he didn't pick up. She left him a message, simply asking him to call her back, saying it was important. Knowing him, it would be a couple days or so before he bothered to even check his messages.

A light thump from her bathroom had her spinning around, black curls whipping in her face from the sudden movement as her heart leapt into her throat. She cursed in time with Sam, who was currently supposed to be showering so she could take a look at his stitches before she headed down to work. She'd actually managed to forget he was there in her momentary panic.

Sucking in a calming breath, she called out, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Sam sounded annoyed. "You, uh…You might need a new shower rod though."

Piper's brow furrowed in confusion before a laugh huffed out of her. She wasn't even gonna ask about that. Her bathroom was actually pretty small, especially compared to Sam's mammoth frame. It wasn't really that much of a surprise that he accidentally broke something. With a sigh she collapsed back onto her couch, focusing on calming herself slowly so that she didn't tip Sam off. Even with the shit-storm she saw coming, she had no intention to tell him about any of it until she absolutely had to. She wouldn't be able to explain properly without revealing things she really wasn't prepared to talk about yet.

A moment later, Sam emerged from the bathroom with a swirl of steam. His cheeks were lightly pink from either embarrassment of the heat of the shower. Maybe both considering he had her shower rod in one hand. She snorted and shook her head in amusement before taking it from him and taking it to the small kitchenette to dispose of later. He had somehow managed to break it clean in half during his shower. She didn't ask.

"Sit," she said instead, motioning to her tiny kitchen table shoved in the corner. The first aid kit was spread out across the table already, so it was a fairly simple process to check over his wounds, all healing more speedily than they would without her Grace. She hummed in satisfaction and wiped them down with antiseptic wipes before covering them with more gauze. Her eyes flicked over to the clock hanging on the wall before she patted his shoulder and told him he could put his shirt on now.

"I'll have to open the bar in a minute," she told him as she cleared the table. "Feel free to stay up here, or come down. Whatever you want."

She could feel his eyes on the back of her head as she washed her hands at the sink. He waited until she was finished, drying her hands on a dishrag while leaning against the counter, eyebrow raised in question.

"You won't mind having a hunter hanging around?"

She snorted, "Dude, I told you when we first met hunters pass through all the time. Plus I tried to get someone else to handle the vampire nest this morning, remember?"

"Right," his brow furrowed. "I'd forgotten."

She shrugged off the counter, tossing the rag behind her, "It's been a busy day. I don't blame you. Besides, I can always use a hand around the bar. Especially when it's free."

He smirked, "Free, huh?"

"Well I am housing you. It's the least you could do," she grinned as he chuckled at her.

"Why do I get the feeling you've been planning that since you saved my ass?"

She just continued to grin in response.

* * *

Sam cleared a recently vacated table and wiped it down before taking the glasses back behind the bar where Piper was pouring someone a pint of beer. She smiled at him in gratitude while a rowdy group of guys catcalled at her. She seemed used to the harassment, but Sam couldn't help but bristle in response.

"Sam," she called, seeming to see where his mind was drifting. "Could you take some trash out? We're starting to overflow."

He nodded before heading to the small kitchen that served up sandwiches, wings, fries, and burgers. The balding, beer-bellied chef glanced at him dismissively before dumping a handful of fries into the deep fryer. Sam nodded in greeting before gathering the truly stuffed trash bag and pushing out the back door. The cool night air made him sigh in relief. It was amazing how packed the tiny bar had become in just a little over an hour. He moved slowly to the large dumpster at the end of the alley where Piper tossed all her trash, enjoying the temporary reprieve. He didn't mind helping, was actually loving the purely mundane work of taking people there drinks and cleaning up after them. It was a nice break from chasing after things that could kill him. But he still felt that itch under his skin, that urge to run and hunt and _don't stop moving_. The same feeling that had been driving him since Dean had died. He didn't know how long he'd be able to ignore it. To live the slow common life, even if he was currently bunking with the supernatural.

"Well, well, look who it is," a smooth female voice drifted over to him just as he'd tossed his bag away. He turned to see a woman around Piper's height with dark hair and light skin stalking toward him, a smirk on her lips. "Little Sammy Winchester. Long time, no see."

His eyes narrowed as he stiffened, suddenly regretting not having tucked a weapon away before following Piper to work, "Do I know you?"

She grinned in response, now a mere handful of feet away, making him stumble back a step to keep her at a distance. Before she could answer, however, the back door to the bar opened, bouncing off the wall, revealing Piper who wore a truly pissed off expression. Sam was briefly reminded of when she'd spoken to the hunters on the phone about the vampire nest. This was so much worse. Fire seemed to dance behind her grey eyes as she locked gazes with the stranger. Her whole miniscule frame shook lightly with restrained power. Power that was so easy to forget about when she was smiling and serving beers and talking to him like any other human. He shuddered lightly in response, shrinking back with icy cold dread. He truly hoped he wouldn't get caught in the crossfire of whatever was pissing her off.

"Ruby," her tone was hard, cold as she took in the other woman. Sam felt a shock at the name. It couldn't be… "I didn't think you'd have the balls to come around here."

The woman flinched at the accusation, taking a few decisive steps toward the entrance of the alley, "I…I didn't know you were getting personally involved."

Piper raised a single eyebrow, "I am very aware of what you think. Of what all of your kind think of me, but I honestly don't give a single damn. What I do care about, is you coming _here_, when I've made it very clear I don't care for your patronage."

Ruby's eyes flashed black, "And here I thought it was a free country."

"It is. And I have the freedom to refuse serving you. Leave."

She didn't need to be told twice. Ruby booked it back down the alley, disappearing into the night.

"That was Ruby," Sam said quietly, shocked that the demon he had once trusted had made him feel so threatened.

"Yeah," Piper breathed. "You okay?"

"Yeah," his brow furrowed. "I am curious, though…How do you know her?"

She sighed as she stepped fully out of the bar and over to where Sam still stood, "It's a long story and has a lot to do with those things I'm not able to talk to you about yet."

He frowned. He hated that she was keeping things from him, but he honestly wasn't as worried about it as he probably should be. It helped that she was honest about it. And how fucked up was that?

"Alright," he finally nodded. "Can you at least tell me why she seemed so interested in me? Or is that something else you can't talk about?"

She chewed her lip, thinking things through as she stared up at him, "I suppose you deserve to know that, at least. But not right now, okay. I'll close early tonight and we can talk then. But for now I really need to get back. Deal?"


	12. Something Like Trust

**This chapter has been mostly finished for a while now. I've just been busy for a while and haven't had time to finish it. I'm still not sure whether or not I like the ending, but it'll do.**

Skylar cursed loudly as Dean forced her shoulder back into its socket. God, that hurt like a bitch. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and squeezed lightly, careful not to cause her more pain. She sighed as her head dropped to Dean's shoulder. Time moved differently in hell, she knew that, knew that the months it had taken to make their way around the pit was probably a mere could of weeks topside. Still, she couldn't help the hopelessness and guilt that had begun to eat at her. She didn't want to say anything, but part of her felt like it had been a mistake to try and save Dean. Now, it would be her fault if…_when_ they were caught. She would be tortured as well and nothing her father could do would save her from that pain.

She shook her head, refusing to give in to such thoughts and turned more fully to Dean. He was eyeing the entrance of their newest hideout, watching carefully for anything wanting to kill them. He needed to survive. He needed to get back to his brother. And she, with her hurt shoulder and probably broken ankle, would just slow him down. They had already lost their packs, all of their supplies. If he didn't make it out soon, they would both slowly fade to nothing down here, in the most painful ways imaginable.

"We shouldn't be far now. A week, maybe two…" She trailed off, hissing in pain as she readjusted. "Just follow the ridge and you'll see a house in serious disrepair. It's really more part of the mountain than its own separate house so you'll really need to keep your eyes open for it. But inside, in the basement there's a…"

"Wait," Dean cut her off. "Hold on. Why are you telling me this? You already know all of this."

"I can't come with you."

His eyes narrowed, "When were you planning on telling me this? Make me trust you and then just send me out on my own and watch as demons pick me apart slowly? Huh?" he huffed angrily as he jerked away, jumping to his feet.

Skylar clenched her teeth to stop the hiss of pain threatening to escape at his abrupt movement, "I'm like ninety-percent sure my ankle is broken right now. And we have no more supplies. It'll be safer and faster for you to move on your own. Otherwise I'd be leaving with you, I swear. I hate here just as much as you."

He blinked at her, breathing heavily through his nose as adrenaline no doubt pumped through his veins. Both of them had been riding adrenaline highs for too long now, it was only a matter of time before one of them snapped or crashed.

"You have two choices," he informed her in an authoritative tone that absolutely _did not_ affect her _at all_. Seriously. She was _not_ turned on. Nope. "Either we wait here for you to heal. Or I carry you. Your choice."

"I…what?"

"I don't leave people behind. Especially not people who have saved my life."

She continued to blink at him in confusion. He couldn't be serious. She was a demon. He killed her kind on a regular basis. It didn't matter what had happened to make him trust her temporarily, she couldn't believe he would put his own life on the line for hers. You can't unlearn something you've known your whole life like that. None of this was making sense.

Seeming to read her mind, or maybe just her expressions, he sighed and moved to crouch in front of her, "I can admit I'm usually not the most forgiving or understanding bastard, but you've honestly haven't given me a reason not to trust you."

"I sent you here," she whispered, unsure of why she was fighting this.

He paused, "True. But you rescued me, so I'm willing to overlook that. For now."

She huffed, "How generous."

"Look," he rolled his eyes but his lips were twitching in amusement. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful you're helping me outta here, but there's no way in hell I'm forgetting you threw me here in the first place."

Part of Skylar really wanted to argue, tell him he had made the deal of his own free will, but even she didn't see it entirely that way. She wouldn't be here if that were true. Instead she nodded in agreement, a smirk gracing her features an idea came to mind, making her feel like maybe she shouldn't hang out with the tricksters anymore.

"Carry me," she whined dramatically, throwing herself at Dean as much as her injuries allowed. He let out an _oomph_ as she draped herself over his shoulders with a giggle. He shifted so one of his arms caught under her knees while the other wrapped around her waist. She flushed in pleasure at how easily he stood with her draped in his arms and carried her back out onto the path to the house as if she weighed nothing.

* * *

Nat was curled up in the corner of her favorite cafe in the French Quarter, coffee nearly gone and her eyes glued to her phone where she was currently trying to beat Skylar's high score on _Flappy Bird_. She figured since the half-demon was busy in hell, it was the perfect chance to gain some ground. Part of her knew she should be a little more concerned. It had been over a week now with no word from the blonde, but Skylar knew how to take care of herself. Until the King of the Crossroads himself became worried and began knocking down their doors in search of his daughter, there was no point in freaking out.

She pouted as her game was interrupted by an incoming call. So close. It wasn't a number she recognized but with the company she kept that didn't always mean anything. Sometimes it was better to be untraceable. So with a sigh she answered, popping her favorite chewing gum loudly in hopes that it annoyed whoever was on the other end.

"That's disgusting," a relatively familiar British lilt scolded. Her brow furrowed as she tried to place the voice but came up blank.

"Who is this?"

"Well, it's nice to know I made such a good impression," whoever it was answered dryly. "And here I thought you'd remember the man who put your grandmother to sleep."

Her eyes narrowed as she straightened from her slouched position, "Balthazar."

"Oh good, you do remember."

"What do you want? And how'd you get this number?"

"Just thought I'd give a bit of a friendly warning, considering it's my fault they found you."

A chill ran down her spine at the ominous words despite the cheerful tone they were relayed in, "What warning?"

Her only answer was the dial tone before a light breeze shifted the short strands of her hair despite the fact that she was indoors. The soft flutter of wings sounded and suddenly she had a companion. A very good looking, familiar, unwanted companion, but a companion nonetheless. He still wore the slightly disheveled suit and oversized jacket. His black hair was windswept for his arrival and his face was carefully neutral. Except for the strikingly blue eyes which betrayed his confusion and frustration. Frustration Nat was used to seeing directed at her, but she couldn't understand the confusion.

"No please, sit! I was just saying how lonely it was here all by myself," the sarcastic words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. He didn't seem dazed however, simply continued to stare at her like she was the most complicated puzzle ever made. Finally, she shrugged and went back to her game. He'd talk when he was ready, she was sure.

"What do you know about Dean Winchester?" His voice startled her so bad she fumbled her phone, making her bird take a nose dive into one of the obstacles.

"Oh, come on," she groaned, "I was nearly there."

He stared at her blankly.

"Seriously. Two months! TWO! Skylar will never be beaten at this point."

Nothing.

She tossed her head back, letting it thunk lightly against the wall behind her as she let out the world's biggest sigh/groan, "Fine. I'll play along. Dean Winchester. Hunter. Deceased...That's about it."

He blinked at her, as if that was a reasonable response. Her hand twitched towards her phone, eager to get back to her game. She'd tell Piper about this lovely rendezvous later.

"He is missing," he finally conceded when it was clear she wasn't saying anything else.

She raised an eyebrow, "He's dead."

"He is missing from hell."

"How is that your problem?"

"Everything regarding Dean Winchester is my concern."

A slow smirk spread across her face, "Oh really?"

"Yes," he answered calmly, no emotion bleeding through.

She snorted. Clearly he didn't understand subtlety, "Okay, let's go with how is that _my_ problem?"

"The state of the world rests on the shoulders of Dean Winchester."

"So if he's not in hell the world ends. Is that what you're trying to say?" She raised an eyebrow, "'Cause from what I've seen, the world wasn't doing so hot when he was above ground. Maybe there's a reason he's missing. Maybe _this _is God's plan."

He tilted his head, blue eyes studying her intently, "You are not to know God's plan."

She crossed her arms on the table, leaning her wait forward to bring their faces closer together, "And neither are you."

She could have sworn she saw his expression twitch, something she couldn't identify flashing through his eyes too briefly to catch. He straightened his shoulders as he face returned to his blank mask, "I am an angel of the Lord."

"So I've heard. Doesn't mean daddy tells you everything that goes on," she tilted her head in thought. "My guess is you're one of the youngest, right? Probably no one tells you anything at all. Just gives you orders. Since you have no free will you can't exactly argue, but seriously? Just because they're angels doesn't mean they can't _lie_. There is no way for you to know exactly what God's plan is. Most of the angels giving you orders? They don't speak with God directly either. It's like the blind leading the blind."

She paused again, taking his blank yet somehow attentive expression. It was like he was trying his damnedest to not seem interested while soaking up every word she was rambling. Maybe there was hope for him yet. "The fact is you'll never know. And I know you people are all about having faith, but having faith in God and having faith in the person telling you what to do are two different things. You shouldn't just take their word for it. You should be able to _know_ for a fact that they are doing just as God wishes. And if you don't, you should find someone else to lead you. A general is only as good as their soldiers and soldiers can easily overthrow their general if they don't trust him."

They stared at each other for an indeterminable amount of time as she allowed him to mull over her words. She was about to take a huge leap in faith that could easily come back to bite her in the ass. But something was telling her she needed to get this angel on their side – that their battles would be infinitely easier with him there. She just hoped her friends didn't shoot her first.

"I know someone…A messenger of God."

He eyed her cautiously, "Who?"

"I can't tell you until I know it's alright with them. They have my loyalty before anything else and I'm _not_ risking that by sending you to them without warning. I'll…I'll pray for you I guess," she snorted at that visual, "when I know whether or not they'll see you."

He blinked at her with wide doe eyes before suddenly vanishing. She sighed as she pulled out her phone, praying Piper didn't kill her for this stunt.


	13. The Truth Partially Told

**Another short chapter, and idk if it even makes sense at this point. This is one of those scenes I _knew_ had to be written and I didn't want to because it was going to reiterate stuff I've already talked about and honestly I didn't want to write all that info out, so I kinda just skipped that part all together and just wrote Sam's reaction which, again, idk if it makes sense. It's honestly been so long since I've updated this story, I was honestly just trying to get _something _down so I could get past this point. I don't think it'll help speed up the updates, simply because I've just run out of steam for this story, but I'm still hoping I'll eventually finish it. It'll just take a lot longer than any of us would really like. **

**Anywho, just know I don't intend to abandon this story and I'm still dragging my muse along to get chapters out as quickly as possible.**

Sam couldn't help but pace, his long legs eating up the minuscule space between coffee table and window within seconds. Piper was curled up on the couch, feet braced against the edge while her arms wrapped around her knees, hugging them to her chest. She looked even smaller than normal as she coiled up. He wasn't angry with _her_, per say, but he _was_ angry. Pissed really. The things she was talking about. The Apocalypse, Ruby, all of their parts within the "grand scheme". It was all too much. There was still some things she wasn't saying, more personal things about her family that she couldn't reveal just yet but would make the whole situation just a little clearer. Unfortunately, that meant he was slightly confused as well as pissed.

Being angry at the world while still not completely understanding why everything was happening put him on edge and he was worried he'd take it out on the nearest person. Piper didn't deserve being the target of his frustration, so he was pacing, trying to work out some emotion with physical activity. His body was still sore, still healing, strained from the light but taxing work in the bar. He felt like he could drop at any second, but with his mind whirling around negative thoughts that wouldn't be going away anytime soon he couldn't just sit still.

"Sam," Piper's quiet voice brought him back out of his mind. He froze in the middle of the room, hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically as he tried to force himself to calm down.

"Why me?" he growled out before she could say anything else. "Why am I the one to start the apocalypse? Is it because…?" He couldn't finish the question, his head throbbing with the memories of Azazel and all the people he had poisoned with his blood. He had thought it was over, but what if it wasn't? What if _this_ had been the real reason for his mother's death? Was this the only reason he existed?

"Sam," she called again, closer this time. He blinked and she was standing beside them, one hand tentatively reaching out but not touching him. She looked unsure, hesitant, like she was afraid he was going to bolt if she moved too close too quickly. He quickly deflated under the stare. There was no real reason to, he still felt a bit bottled up, but something about Piper made him feel less alone, less like it was him against the world, something he'd been clinging to since Dean had died. Without Dean, he had been by himself. Bobby was there, or he tried to be, but it wasn't the same. He didn't have that constant presence Sam had secretly (or not so secretly at times) relied on. He may not have known Piper all that long or all that well, but it still felt like the same type of comfort he had when Dean was alive and had his back.

Before he realized what he was doing, Sam had stumbled forward, arms reaching out to grasp around the short woman's shoulders. She began to buckle under his weight until he managed to pull her up further against his body. A sigh passed her lips, brushing against the skin of his neck as she returned his embrace, holding him close.

"It's okay," she breathed, clutching him just as tightly as he clutched her. Gently she guided him toward the couch, collapsing with him onto the cushions and allowing him to pull her close liked a teddy bear. Part of him felt ridiculous, like the child he never truly got to be. But a greater part just didn't give a shit anymore. He needed comfort right now, more than he ever thought he would, and Piper apparently was more than happy to curl up with him and let him shake and sniffle with hardly a word between them.

When he had finally settled more, he glanced up to find at some point during his small breakdown Piper had repositioned them so his head was cradled against her chest, her hands running through his hair as she hummed quietly. He blinked blearily in confusion. His mind was still buzzing with all the new information he had to process and his exhausted body felt like it weighed a ton, the combination somehow making it difficult for him to comprehend his situation.

The humming stopped and Piper gave him a small smile, "Ready to listen to me again?"

Sam merely blinked in response, unsure if he could work up the energy to answer verbally. He managed to force a small nod, however.

"You are not to blame in any of this. They chose you and your brother for a specific reason. I don't know the details and I honestly don't give a rat's ass." He let out a breathy laugh at her exclamation. "The important thing here is we stopped it, nothing bad is going to happen to you. The Apocalypse may still be brewing, but it's far from ready to blow, and we'll be damned if we'll actually let the world end."

"We?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"You keep saying 'we'?"

"We. You. Me. My friends. Dad. We're gathering as many people as we can to put an end to this before it even begins. Hell, if you really don't want to be a part of it, you don't have to. Lord knows you've done more than your fair share of saving the world. If you wanted to take a break, no one would blame you."

Silence settled over them again, Piper's fingers still carding through his hair rhythmically, nails occasionally scratching against his scalp and lulling him into a drowsy state. He easily could have slipped off to sleep, feeling safer than he had in year, maybe even ever. But a nagging thought at the back of his mind refused to let him relax completely. Something Piper had said shook his deep down. He knew he'd carry guilt with him for a time, maybe forever, he couldn't change that. It seemed like part of being a Winchester was to feel guilty even if it was something you had no control over. That seemed to be the bulk of the time with his family. Piper had said he didn't have to help. He could take a break. But she didn't understand that his own conscience, the guilt already building in the pit of his stomach where he knew it would grow and fester for an immeasurable amount of time, wouldn't allow him to sit back while the rest of them put their lives in danger. He was a Winchester, dammit, and it was about time he started acting like it.


End file.
